Paperweight
by heyho
Summary: AU. The problem isn't that Santana wants to hire new employees. She's overwhelmed at work, you can't fault her for that. The problem is she wants a certain blonde employee in more ways than just professionally. Side Faberry and Kurtbastian.
1. Chapter One

Hello, so I figured I'd give this fanfiction thing a shot. Had the idea in my head for this Brittana fic and it wouldn't leave me alone, so here is the first thing I've written since some very embarrassing band fanfic from like six years ago. Hope you enjoy!

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CHAPTER ONE

There are few things Santana Lopez hates more than paperwork, and considering her disdain for the general human race, that's saying something.

Santana mutters angrily to herself as she tries to sort through the sea of papers currently flooding her desk, making a mental note to yell at Quinn for leaving early for her "date". She wouldn't be surprised if Quinn was lying through her perfect white teeth and just couldn't be bothered helping.

Despite the fact they co-own Lopez-Fabray Design, and therefore should really be expected to do equal amounts of work, after their assistant Marley quit unexpectedly a few weeks ago (or was scared off by Santana, depending on who you ask) the paperwork had been piling up. Santana couldn't remember the last time both her and Quinn had left the studio before 10pm. Her phone beeps, and after locating it under her mouse mat, she sees she has a text from Quinn.

_Date was a disaster, just got home. Where are you? X_

Resisting the urge to throw her phone across her office, she types back angrily.

_Still at the studio. There's so much fucking paperwork for the Simpson deal it's ridiculous. X_

Santana manages to sign three more papers before her phone beeps again.

_Forget it. We can deal with it tomorrow. Come home, I want to talk to you about something. X_

That catches Santana's interest. Giving one last withering look at the mountain of paper obscuring most of her desk, she switches her computer off, picks up her coat and bag, and walks out of her office. The studio is completely empty, as it should be at 9.30 on a Sunday evening.

Locking the doors, she tugs her coat tighter around herself and starts walking to the nearest subway station. Despite it being the middle of August in New York, Santana is starting to get cold. Her head hurts from staring at a computer screen for half the day, and a seemingly never ending pile of paper for the other half. Her hand hurts from typing and scribbling her signature on thousands of bits of paper. She needs a drink. Flinging her arm out, she forgets about the 20 minute subway ride and climbs into the taxi that screeches to a halt next to her.

"Where to, Miss?" The taxi driver asks as he blatantly leers at her through the rear view mirror. Santana narrows her eyes at him and gives him the address of the apartment she shares with Quinn. Who wants to talk to her about something. She unlocks her phone and fires off a snarky text.

_On my way home now. What do you want to talk about? Finally realized you're a flaming homo and want tips on how to make the beast with two backs with Berry? X_

Trying desperately to get that slightly horrifying image of Rachel and Quinn going at it out of her mind, she pays the driver and shudders at the way his eyes don't leave her cleavage. Men are pigs, and she's not entirely sure why straight women even exist. Her phone buzzes in her pocket as she steps into the elevator, and unlocks her phone while pressing the button for the fifth floor.

_You're disgusting. And for the millionth time there is nothing going on between Rachel and I. If anything I'd think maybe you want in her pants the amount you go on about it. Something work related. Hurry up or I'm eating your slice of cheesecake. X_

Santana rolls her eyes and pushes open the door of her apartment, opening her mouth to yell at Quinn for that even more horrifying image.

"And you say I'm the disgusting one. I may be a full blown lady lover, but I wouldn't go near Berry with a ten foot pole."

Santana briefly hopes Berry isn't actually here, but dismisses that idea immediately and she hadn't heard any singing as she walked down the hall.

Santana doesn't hate Rachel, she thinks she's actually really talented and at least somewhat attractive, not that she would ever breathe that out loud without being at least five tequila shots in, Rachel just has an innate ability to get on her nerves very quickly. Walking into the living room, she flings her bag onto the floor and collapses onto her front on the sofa.

"Stop being so dramatic. It's ridiculous." She can almost hear Quinn's eyeroll accompanying that comment. Santana lifts her head and glares at Quinn, who is standing in the kitchen holding up two bottles of wine, one white and one red, with an eyebrow raised in question.

"Can't it be both?"

"We have work tomorrow Santana."

"Fine. Red." Santana is exhausted and red wine usually makes her drowsy anyway. She might regret that in the morning, but for now she watches as Quinn pulls two large wine glasses out of a cupboard, before filling them up and carrying them over to where Santana is sprawled out over the entire sofa. Santana heaves herself up and takes in Quinn's appearance. The sweatpants, old high school cheerleading tshirt and actually being at home point to her date having gone _fantastically_.

"What was wrong with them this time?" Santana takes a sip of her wine. God she needed that.

"There wasn't any specific thing wrong. I just didn't feel any spark."

"That spark you're looking for is called an orgasm, and you have to have this thing called sex to achieve it." Santana smirks at Quinn, taking another large gulp of her wine.

"As I have said far too many times, you're disgusting Santana. I don't shame you for sleeping your way through New York's lesbian, bisexual or really drunk population, so stop shaming me for not sleeping around." Quinn narrows her eyes at her, and Santana thinks she may have gone a bit too far. As usual.

"Whatever. Sorry." Quinn smirks over the rim of her wine glass, smug with the knowledge only a select few get an apology from Santana, no matter how half-assed or sarcastic. "What did you so desperately need to talk to me about?"

Quinn places down her wine glass. "I think we need to hire a few more employees. Ones that can actually stand to be around you." Santana rolls her eyes.

"For the millionth time, Marley quit. I didn't do anything."

"If you class not doing anything as comparing her to a boring mime and yelling about her various inadequacies for nearly 10 minutes, then fine, you didn't do anything. That's not the point though, even if Marley hadn't left I would have suggested this. We're just barely meeting deadlines Santana, we need to hire a few more people."

Quinn has a point, Santana muses as she refills the two wine glasses.

Lopez-Fabray Design is a well-known graphic design studio located in Soho, started by Santana and Quinn a few months after they graduated from Tisch School of The Arts. They had worked a few small projects until their big break came, designing the marketing campaign for Vocal Adrenaline, a singing company owned by Jesse St. James. While Jesse had been an enormous douchebag throughout the entire project, he had praised them for their work, and that had opened them up to a much bigger clientele. Three years later and they've grown significantly and are one of the main well respected design studios in New York.

"As much as it pains me to say this, I think you're right. I want to hire another assistant as well."

Quinn nods in agreement. "We can call a meeting tomorrow and tell everyone. Then we can send adverts out, and hopefully we'll be able to find good designers that don't irritate either of us."

Santana laughs. "At least you can usually hide when you hate someone. I'm still working on that." Which is a complete lie and both Quinn and Santana know it. If Santana hates someone she is all for letting them know about it. Loudly. Multiple times a day. Preferably in a public environment.

They both drain their glasses and Santana stands up to take the now empty bottle and two glasses over to the sink. She dumps the bottle into the recycling and places the two glasses into the sink for someone, i.e. Quinn to wash tomorrow. Remembering her slice of cheesecake in the refrigerator; she grabs a plate out of the cupboard and walks over to the fridge. Locating the slice of heaven behind a huge pile of leftover Chinese takeout, Santana walks back to the sofa and sits back down.

"I'm going to bed. Night San." Quinn yawns, and stands up. "See you tomorrow."

"Night Q." Santana mumbles round a mouthful of cheesecake. She might mock Berry endlessly for it, but her vegan shit is actually really good.

Finishing her cheesecake, and making a mental note to eat the single slice left just to piss Quinn off, she switches the lights off in the living room and goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Staring at herself in the mirror after brushing her teeth and taking her make up off, she wonders how long she's looked this tired for. No, tired isn't really the right word. She's getting enough sleep even with the ridiculous hours she's working, she's eating enough, and she's not on drugs or anything insane like that.

For half a second she thinks maybe she looks lonely, and in the second half of that second dismisses the idea as one of the dumbest things she's ever thought. A person can't _look_ lonely, and besides, she isn't. She isn't some loser with no friends, she has Quinn, and Kurt, and Puck and, she begrudgingly admits, Rachel.

It's not like she's lonely in the relationship department either, as she doesn't see the point in relationships anyway. They're a waste of time, money, energy and feelings, and somebody always ends up getting hurt in the end.

Santana might be a bit biased considering in her last and only relationship, she was the one that got hurt, but that's beside the point.

She doesn't need a girlfriend. She can get any girl she wants, whenever she wants, for whatever she wants, and the only thing she wants girls for is sex. Not a relationship.

Averting her eyes from her reflection, she switches the bathroom light off and walks past Quinn's room and into her own. Flopping down onto her bed she yawns, quickly sets her alarm and is asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow.


	2. Chapter Two

Thank you for reviews/favourites/follows etc :) I know the last chapter was pretty short, but that was just to get the ball rolling, this chapter's about four times the length and you meet Brittany here. Also, I'm British, and I've only been to New York once a few years ago, so my knowledge of the city isn't perfect, so forgive me for that, and any Britishness that seeps in :)

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CHAPTER TWO

Santana glares in disbelief at the computer screen. _Wrong username/email and password combination _is blinking back at her after her third failed attempt at logging into the studio's Twitter account. Muttering angrily in Spanish, she stands up and storms out of her office, quickly taking the elevator down one floor and stomping towards Quinn's office. Flinging the door open, she takes a brief moment to gloat at the amount of paperwork covering Quinn's desk, before narrowing her eyes at her best friend.

"What the fuck did you change the Twitter account password to, Fabray?"

Quinn doesn't even bother looking up. "Santana loves penis, all one word and all lowercase."

Santana blinks at Quinn before picking up an eraser sitting on the bookcase next to her and flinging it across the office, watching it bounce off Quinn's annoying head. Slamming the door on Quinn's protesting, she is about to go back to her own office when she notices a blond guy standing in the middle of the hall squinting down at a piece of paper in his hand.

"Can I help you with something?"

The guy spins around, and the first thing Santana notices are his lips. They're huge. Like, Santana thinks this guy may be in possession of the biggest mouth she's ever seen, and she's known Rachel a painfully long time. If this guy and Berry had a kid, they'd probably just come out a giant mouth. Horrifying.

Fish Lips gapes at Santana for a minute before deciding to open his massive mouth and actually clue Santana in on what he's doing lurking in the middle of their studio.

"Hi! Uh, my name's Sam. Sam Evans, I'm, um, looking for Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray? I have an interview with them."

Santana glances at her watch and realizes it's almost noon, and therefore time to start interviewing what she expects will be a lot of morons and only a few potential new employees. Mornings really fly by when you're plotting ways to subtly put hair dye in your best friend's shampoo. She glances back up at Sam and tells him to follow her.

"I'm Santana, nice to meet you." She sticks her hand out in greeting, deciding that she'll be polite and nice to as many of the interviewees as she could, so as not to completely ruin their chances at expanding their staff. Sam grins goofily at her and shakes her hand.

Santana leads him into Marley's old office where they'll be conducting the interviews and tells him to have a seat and wait while she fetches Quinn.

Quinn glares at her as she walks into her office. "Come to throw more stationery at me, Lopez?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "The first guy we're interviewing is here. Sam something or other. He kinda looks like a male version of you. Except with a huge mouth. And he probably doesn't have a stick wedged up his ass."

It's Quinn's turn to roll her eyes as she stands and brushes her hands over her top, getting rid of imaginary dust and lint. Like Quinn would ever be seen as anything less than immaculate. Grabbing the folder full of questions to interrogate the interviewees with, she brushes past Santana and walks down the hall without a word.

Sam looks up as the two women sweep into the office and his eyes widen slightly as he gulps loudly. Santana doesn't really blame him. If she was suddenly faced with two smoking hot women in business suits her brain function would probably lessen significantly as well.

Quinn smiles at Sam as she sits down opposite him. "So, Sam was it?" Sam nods, returning the smile nervously. "I'm Quinn. I'll just ask you a few questions while Santana here looks through your portfolio. First off, how are you?"

Santana smirks at Sam's confused look as she picks up his portfolio. Evidently the rumors of Quinn and herself not being the mostly friendly of people have managed to infiltrate art schools now.

She tunes Sam and Quinn out as she flicks through his portfolio. She's impressed. His work is actually really good for a just graduated designer. She interrupts Quinn asking Sam about his family to interrogate him about something that might actually be useful to them.

"What area of design did you specialize in Sam?"

He whips his head round to look at her. "Animation. I, uh, I really like video games, and originally I was interested in designing them, but that was a bit too scientific for me." He scratches the back of his head as he smiles bashfully. Santana glances at Quinn and sees a genuine smile on her face as she looks at Sam. Evidently he's won her over already. "Then when I went into my junior year at Watkins and we had to declare a specialty, I picked animation. I have a little brother and sister so I was always being made to watch cartoons." The way Sam averts his eyes at the end of his sentence makes Santana think maybe he liked the cartoons just as much as his siblings. She's finding it hard to find anything bad about Sam so far. He's kind of like a giant puppy dog that you can't help but like.

"As I'm sure you know, Lopez-Fabray is split into three main departments," Quinn trails off, raising her eyebrows at Sam, prompting him to continue.

"Advertising design, photography and animation. I know your animation department isn't as big as the other two, but it's still one of the most respected ones in New York and it'd be an honor to work for you both." He grins widely at them both.

"Correct," Quinn smiles back at him. Oh God. Santana's almost certain they're going to end up hiring Sam, and she doesn't want Quinn to do anything stupid like sleep with one of her employees. "I am head of photography and Santana is head of advertising, however we do not have a designated head of animation. As it's not one of our primary focuses, that department sort of just runs itself, and Santana and I both oversee it."

Sam nods, eyes flicking between both women. Santana continues to flick through Sam's portfolio, confirming her hunch that he's basically just a child in an adult's body. Most of his work seems to be aimed towards young children and very early teenagers, and Santana thinks that might come in handy. Almost all of the work the studio had produced had definitely been for people more around Santana and Quinn's age. Expanding to add in a younger demographic certainly couldn't hurt.

She half pays attention to Sam and Quinn chatting while continuing through his work, picking up that Sam is 22 and from Tennessee, and moved to New York after graduating from Watkins College of Art And Design in Nashville. After Quinn looks through his portfolio, and Santana asks him a few more questions, they inform him the interview is over and they'll get back to him within the next few days. He stands up and shakes both their hands, thanking them both for having him, his guppy lips stretching into a huge smile, before walking out of the office.

"Please don't sleep with him." Santana winces slightly. That wasn't quite how she wanted to bring that up.

Quinn's head whips round and she glares at Santana. "_Excuse me?_"

"That came out wrong."

"You think?"

"Look," Santana huffs. "Despite my concerns that some of our very expensive software might be sucked into his black hole of a mouth, he's actually really good, and he has my vote for hiring him. But I saw the way you were looking at him, and he was even less subtle with his leering. I don't want to hire him just for you to fuck him and then we have to fire him."

Quinn stares at Santana for a second before bursting into laughter. "I know I should really be offended by that statement Santana, but I don't think I can be, as that was possibly one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard you say," At Santana's unimpressed look, she continues. "First off, if either of us slept with an employee, I would put a hundred dollars on it being you. Secondly, yes Sam is cute, but I think it would be like sleeping with a family relative. You said so yourself, we could be siblings. Number three, I know this might come as a shock to you, but people smile at each other when they are trying to be friendly, not solely because they want to have sex with them. And finally, I agree with you for hiring him. Now can we please forget the first half of this conversation ever happened?"

Santana just grunts in reply, and places a tick next to Sam's name on the list of interviewees.

/

Unfortunately, after the high bar Sam has set, the next few interviews are a disaster. A round faced redhead girl who looks about 12 comes in, and she starts off alright, until Santana opens her portfolio. Lopez-Fabray Design is a graphic design company, not a pepper advertising company. After an extremely nervous guy with a fuzzy ginger afro who doesn't take his eyes off Santana's tits the entire interview leaves, Santana gives great consideration to actually burning the chair he was sitting on.

Santana is broken from her thoughts about where she can buy gasoline by Quinn groaning at dropping her head into her hands. "This is Sam's fault. He got our hopes up that there are actually talented and somewhat sane people in New York than want to work for us." Santana snickers at Quinn's distress as the next moron knocks on the door. Quinn shouts for them to come in as Santana glances down at the list of names.

"Hi. You must be Tina." Santana raises her eyes to the Asian girl shaking Quinn's hand. She thanks whatever God is up there that Tina is at least hot, so even if she's awful, this interview won't be as bad as the previous few

Tina smiles at Santana as she sits down. "Tina Cohen-Chang, yes, nice to meet you both."

Thankfully, Tina is not awful. At all. She's very good actually. Santana is skimming through her impressive portfolio when she hears Tina mention something.

"Wait, your boyfriend has the same last name as you? Isn't that a little weird?"

Quinn hisses at her under her breath to be polite, but Tina just laughs. "It can get kind of annoying when people think we're siblings, but most of the time people just think we're married." Santana shrugs and goes back to her portfolio. Tina seems to specialize in advertising, so she chucks another thanks up to that God again that she can actually stand the girl so far, as Santana's department could do with another as talented as Tina. Not that Santana is difficult to work with. Or scares everyone off with her temper and endless supply of insults. Not at all.

After Tina leaves and Santana places a tick next to her name on the list, she realizes it's almost 4pm. The next interview isn't for another 15 minutes, so she offers to go and get some coffee from the Starbucks across the street. Quinn tells Santana her ridiculously specific order, of which Santana fully blames Berry for, she grabs her coat and purse and heads outside.

Narrowly avoiding being hit by a taxi driver that Santana immediately decides is on meth from the psychotic way he's driving, she makes it into the Starbucks and joins the queue. Staring up at the menu, trying to see if this Starbucks even has _soy vanilla beans _or whatever the fuck Rachel has convinced Quinn to drink, she doesn't notice how close she is to the person in front of her, and accidentally walks straight into the back of them.

_Smooth Lopez, real smooth_, she internally berates herself. She is about to tell the person she walked into to watch where they're going as if it's their fault, when she looks up and into possibly the bluest eyes she's ever seen.

The snarky remark gets lodged in her throat, and what comes out instead is, "Uh, sorry."

Except her voice sounds a lot higher pitched than it usually is.

Clearing her throat, Santana blinks to try and get those eyes out of her head, but of course that doesn't work at all as when she opens them again, the girl is still staring at her.

It might be the fact that she hasn't gotten laid in what seems like a very long time, i.e. two weeks, but the only thought crossing Santana's mind is that this girl is _gorgeous._ Like, ridiculously so.

She's a few inches taller than Santana, with the most amazing blue eyes Santana has ever seen, with a light blue beanie on top of her gorgeous blond hair. Her hair is actually amazing, Santana realizes as she does a quick double take. She wonders what kind of shampoo Miss. Beautiful Blue Eyes uses. The perks of being a lesbian, you get amazing sex _and _you can discuss girly shit like beauty products and make up.

Santana's brain evidently decides to stop connecting with her mouth somewhere during that weird train of thought, as she keeps talking. "Sorry, I, uh, wasn't looking where I was going and walked straight into you, um, sorry, are you okay?"

_Stop talking Lopez, just shut up. Now._

Realizing one of the most perfect girls she's ever seen is actually talking to her, Santana stop shouting internally at herself and tries to focus on the girl's lips moving. Bad idea. Santana can think of a lot of places she'd like those lips to be. Most of those places being located on her body. Her naked body. In certain areas that legally have to be covered up in public.

Shaking her head to try and rid the image of what the girl looks like naked out of her mind, she apologizes _again _and asks The Most Beautiful Girl She's Ever Seen to repeat herself.

Thankfully Blondie seems to think rendering Santana speechless is amusing, and her perfect lips stretch into the most gorgeous smile Santana has ever seen. "I said it's fine, and yes I'm okay. Are you? Or do you usually stare silently at people you've just barged into? You're not like, a serial killer are you?" Oh God this girl is amazing, Santana thinks. She needs to get out of this Starbucks before she does something dumb like try to kiss her.

"Uh, no, not a serial killer, although I have been known to entertain homicidal thoughts when I don't have enough coffee." _Why did you say that you complete idiot_, Santana thinks, about to mentally slap herself, when the Blond Angel laughs and oh God is everything about this girl perfect?

"I know the feeling." She giggles, and Santana doesn't believe her for a second because this girl doesn't look like she could hurt a fly.

"Let me buy you your coffee," Santana blurts out. "For walking into you." She decides she needs to book a hospital appointment to see if something between her brain and mouth actually has disconnected. Miss Perfect looks shocked for a second, then her face lights up into a brilliant smile. She tells Santana her order and Santana can feel those beautiful blue eyes piercing into the side of her head as she tells the amused looking barista the three orders. Evidently Santana has been making a fool of herself long enough even the Bieber-haired boy behind the counter noticed.

"You didn't have to do this you know, you barely touched me." The blond looks at her with a smirk.

Santana's mind instantly drops into the gutter as she imagines all the ways she'd definitely like to touch her. Blondie's smirk grows, almost as if she can imagine what Santana is currently trying very hard not to think about.

Thankfully, the barista chooses that moment to place Quinn and Santana's drinks down on the counter, trying valiantly not to laugh at Santana's distress, effectively distracting her from saying something stupid and probably inappropriate to the blond. Miss Perfect's drink is placed down just after, and Santana is about to ask the blond for her name, as she's running out of variations on Miss Perfect to call her in her head, when her phone rings loudly. She raises her phone to her ear, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"What?" Anyone interrupting her time with the most perfect woman on earth didn't deserve politeness.

"What are you doing? Hurry up with the coffee, the next person is here early." Quinn's annoyed voice comes down the phone, and Santana decides to never thank that god again if this is what he hands her in return.

"I'll be there in a minute. The queue was long." The blond and the barista both raise their eyebrows at Santana, since Blondie and Santana are the only ones that have ordered the entire time she's been in the coffee shop. Santana doesn't even know why she lies to Quinn, but it's not like she can take it back now. Besides, Quinn would just mock her endlessly if she came back to the studio gushing about a blond angel with perfect blue eyes.

Quinn hangs up on her after telling her to hurry up again, and Santana turns to the blond. "I have to get back to work. Maybe I'll, uh, see you another time?" That was possibly one of the lamest things she's ever said to a girl before. The blond looks slightly disappointed, but nods anyway.

The blond opens her mouth to speak, but since the universe seems to really want to shit on Santana today, it's her phone that rings then. Blondie pulls it out of her pocket and squints at the screen. Santana can see a caller ID photo of some nerdy looking guy wearing glasses and a sweater vest on the screen. She instantly decides she doesn't like this guy.

The blond pouts. "I have to take this. I'll see you around though?" She smiles at Santana, who just about melts, and walks over to a table by the window, answering the phone as she goes.

Santana lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, turns and begins to walk towards the door. She shoots a glare at the barista who is failing at holding back laughter as he hides behind the pastry counter, but there's no bite behind it. Hell, if she worked in a coffee shop all day, she'd be glad for people that came in and entertained her by making complete idiots of themselves.

She manages to avoid any drug-addled taxi drivers as she rushes back into the studio, but nearly crashes into Unique, one of the employees in the photography department.

"Watch where you're going, girl!" Unique dramatically starts fixing her hair as if Santana was actually a hurricane that had blown into her.

"Your hair looks fine Unique, calm down." Santana is about to shoot towards the elevators when she catches sight of Unique's outfit. "What are you wearing?"

Unique stops pawing at her hair to look down at the silver and black dress she has on. "Is it too much?" She asks worriedly.

"For a photography shoot? Unless you're the model, yeah maybe a bit too much." Santana is confused. Even more so when Unique starts laughing.

"Oh no, Lopez, I'm off now," She tugs Santana closer, and whispers loudly to her as if there's some big secret. "Unique has a date!"

What the hell is it with everyone in this company leaving early for dates?

"Were you just at the Starbucks across the road?" Santana nods. Unique continues excitedly. "I have a date with the barista who would have served you. Cute guy with a smile to die for and a Bieber haircut?" Santana is about to say she was distracted by seeing the woman of her dreams to be concerned with some guy, but Unique continues without waiting for an answer. "His name's Ryder and he is gorgeous and amazing, and Unique is going to rock his world! Unique is also going to be late, so see you later girl!"

Santana just blinks as Unique whirls out the door. Santana hopes their date goes well, she's only known Unique for about a year, but she knows she's had awful luck with relationships. Despite it being the 21st Century, some guys still don't seem to be too keen on the idea of dating an mtf transgender. Close minded idiots, Santana thinks. Unique is an amazing woman, and she hopes Bieber boy can see that.

/

The next few interviews don't go particularly well. Santana is on the verge of throwing the nearest blunt object at the dreadlocked guy sitting in front of them, when Quinn interrupts.

"Okay Joe, thank you, but I think that's enough," Santana tries not to laugh at Quinn's barely disguised annoyance. "We'll get back to you with our decision in the next few days. " They both force a smile at Joe as he walks out of the room.

"Thank God that was the last one." Quinn groans as she slumps back in her chair.

"There's one more actually." Santana says, glancing down at the bit of paper that is now covered with a doodle of a giant robot Santana shooting lasers at all the interviewees that have pissed her off today. "I hope this one is good since Tina and Sam have been the only definite ones."

"Do you think it's too much to hope for that this one specializes in photography? You got Tina and animation has Sam. I want someone." Quinn grumbles from next to her.

Santana laughs as the final person knocks on the door. Quinn groans for them come in, and Santana makes a snarky comment about _being professional, Quinnie, _and then looks up at the unfortunate person who will probably be subjected to Angry Quinn. And her heart stops. She's pretty sure there's an audible thud from where her jaw hits the desk. Seemingly not noticing Santana's idiocy, Quinn grabs at the list of names. "Hello, you must be Brittany Pierce? I'm Quinn."

Blond Perfect Blue Eyed Angel From Starbucks drags her slightly shocked gaze off Santana and onto Quinn. "Hi! Yeah, I'm Brittany, it's nice to meet you Miss Fabray."

"Nice to meet you too Brittany. Call me Quinn though. Have a seat. This is Santana." She snaps out of her daze when Quinn kicks her under the table.

"Hi!" She says, probably a bit too loudly. "Again. Um, nice to see you. Again." She nearly hits her head off the desk. She's met thousands of girls, hit on hundreds of them and not a single one has made her act like such an idiot before.

The Blond Angel- _Brittany, _Santana realizes she now has the blond's name, sits down and looks at her. "Hi." She smiles shyly at her. Santana can feel warmth start to pool low in her stomach, which confuses her. She's never gone for the "shy" type of girl before. She prefers her ladies to be upfront about what they want. "Thank you for the coffee by the way, I didn't get a chance to say before my friend Artie called me and interrupted us."

Santana knew Quinn was looking strangely at her after she had spectacularly tripped over her words saying it was nice to see Brittany again, but at that comment she could almost see Quinn's eyebrow rise in the patent Fabray Way. "Do you two know each other already?" Santana realizes Quinn probably thinks she's slept with this girl at some point, which could not be further from the truth. Unfortunately.

She finally remembers how to speak like a normal human being. "We bumped into each other at Starbucks. Well, I walked into her cause I wasn't looking where I was going. We don't know each other." Santana looks at Quinn and she can see Quinn's other eyebrow slowly rising to join the first one.

And then Brittany opens her mouth. "Santana offered to buy my coffee for me as an apology." Santana didn't even need to be looking at Quinn to know both eyebrows just about shot off her head.

"Did she now? That was extremely nice of you Santana." Santana almost groans; she knows Quinn is going to interrogate her as soon as Brittany leaves.

"Anyway, I think we should get onto the interview." Santana says as brightly as she can. Quinn looks at her in a way that screams they aren't done yet, and turns to Brittany.

"Okay, well Santana is going to have a look through your portfolio and I'll ask you questions. What area of design do you specialize in?"

"Photography. I mean I don't like picking favorites, cause that's like, mean to all the other areas, but I love photography."

Santana holds back a giggle at Brittany's comment, and she can almost see Quinn trying not to shoot off her chair in excitement as she opens Brittany's portfolio.

Ten minutes later, Quinn is shaking Brittany's hand with a massive grin plastered over her face, telling her they'll be in touch within the next few days. Santana hands Brittany her portfolio, and shakes her hand as well, trying to ignore how soft Brittany's fingers are, and decidedly_ not_ thinking about Brittany's fingers on any other part of her body.

"It was nice to meet you properly Brittany, we'll be in touch."

As Brittany shuts the door behind her, Santana closes her eyes in anticipation of the Fabray Inquisition she's sure is about to stampede towards her.

"So you bought her coffee."

"Shut up Fabray."

"You _apologized_ for something that was actually your fault, and then you _bought her coffee_."

"I know I did Fabray, I was there, surprisingly enough."

Santana expects Quinn to reply, but when she opens her eyes to level a Lopez Glare at her best friend, she just finds Quinn smirking at her.

"What?"

"You bought her coffee."

"Shut _up_, Fabray."


	3. Chapter Three

Thank y'all very much for your kind reviews :) This chapter has basically been split into two, and the next part shall be up tomorrow :) I know the chapters aren't massively long yet, but I'm sure that'll change as the story goes on lol. There's some nice backstory in this, and I wouldn't really class what happens as Brittana interaction but... Read on and you'll find out what I'm on about :P

Now, a quick question. What's everyone's opinions on Faberry? I can tell you now Quinn is definitely not going end up with Puck or Sam. I happen to love Faberry, but I understand that some people might not like seeing them in a Brittana fic, which I'm cool writing either way. Obviously the main story will be Brittana, but Quinn and whoever her romantic interest is will be a side plot. Let me know if it's a yes or no on Faberry :)

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CHAPTER THREE

Tina is an angel.

Like, Santana thinks the God she's still on the fence about has crafted Tina just for her.

Except in a less gay, and more design related way.

Moreso than liking Tina for her fantastic minimalist style that is fairly similar to her own, Santana actually likes Tina as a person as well. After graduating from the University of Washington, Tina and her boyfriend Mike went on a gap year backpacking across Asia, teaching English to young children. Anyone that can put up with screaming babies for that long while dealing with the horrible public transport system in Asia deserves a medal in Santana's book.

"So I was thinking, since we can't come up with a suitable logo that Mr. Simpson will agree on, why don't we just scrap that idea and come at it from a purely typographical angle?" Tina and Santana are discussing their current advertising project of some massive business mogul from Miami when Brittany comes bouncing through the door of Santana's office.

"Hi!" Brittany is basically a ball of sunshine. She's almost constantly happy, which on pretty much any other person would annoy the crap out of Santana, but on Brittany she finds it endearing. _Add that on to the ever increasing list of Thoughts About Brittany You Will Never Be Speaking Out Loud_, Santana thinks to herself.

"Hey Britt." Tina beams over at Brittany, while Santana just sips at her coffee and raises her eyebrows in greeting.

Since she so spectacularly made a fool of herself a few weeks ago when she first met Brittany, she hasn't really spoken much to the blond. She hasn't had a chance to. Quinn raves about her just about every night though, saying what a wonderful photographer she is, and how nice she is, and what a brilliant addition to the company she is. Santana wouldn't know, she has barely had time to wander downstairs to the photography department, considering her current project is huge, and Mr. Simpson is a difficult dick.

"Santana, Quinn wants to know what time you're going out for Blaine's birthday tonight?"

"Why couldn't she just ask me herself? You're not her assistant Brittany." Santana knew Quinn could be lazy but this was reaching Lopez levels of lazy.

"She's in the darkroom; she doesn't know how long the photos are going to take to print." Well that explains it.

"Uh, tell her Kurt said to meet at the bar about 9pm. Do you know how long she'll be?" It's almost 6pm now, and Santana doesn't know if she'll be able to stay sober long enough at the bar waiting for Quinn to get there if she had to go alone and meet up later.

"Probably about two hours. How long are you gonna be Tina?" Turning her attention to the Asian girl, Santana is mildly offended she was dismissed so flippantly.

While Brittany is distracted talking to Tina, she takes a moment to _appreciate _Brittany. She ignores the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Berry saying what she's doing is known as leering as her eyes sweep over Brittany's outfit.

She has skinny gray jeans on that are tight enough they look painted on, a plain white v-neck and a dark blue cardigan. It's actually the most normal Santana's seen Brittany dressed, she's pretty sure she saw the blond wearing bright pink boots and a fuzzy yellow hat the other day. In New York. In early September.

Even though she barely knows Brittany, Santana can admit that the woman is hot as fuck. She's broken from her, hopefully subtle, perving by Tina nudging her arm.

"Santana? Are you even listening?"

Glancing at Brittany, the smirk on the blond's face confirms that her perving was definitely _not _subtle and turns to Tina. "What?"

"I said it's 6pm now. Do you need me to stay or should we just continue this tomorrow?"

Santana wonders how long she was leering at Brittany for and waves Tina off. "Yeah sure, whatever. See you both on Monday." Tina says goodbye to her as she grabs her bag and walks past Brittany out the door. Brittany however, stays for a few extra seconds, just staring at Santana. She starts to feel a bit self-conscious. "What?"

Brittany smirks her annoyingly gorgeous smirk at her as she slowly turns and walks towards the door. "Nothing. See you on Monday Santana."

Santana feels warmth low in her stomach at the way Brittany says her name, and her eyes immediately drop to Brittany's ass as she walks out the door, and she's damn sure Brittany knows.

Slouching back in her seat, she groans as she covers her face with her hands.

What the hell is wrong with her? Brittany isn't anything special, is she?

Sure she's one of the most gorgeous girls Santana had ever seen, but that doesn't explain the way Santana's heart rate picks up whenever Brittany walks into a room. She has killer legs that go on for miles, as Santana noticed on one particularly warm day when Brittany had decided to wear an insanely short skirt to the studio, but that doesn't mean that the slight stirring that occurs low in Santana's stomach is her getting turned on by Brittany. She has the most piercing blue eyes Santana has ever encountered, but that has no correlation to the way Santana suddenly feels nervous whenever those particular eyes are locked onto hers.

Does it?

"Jesus Christ Lopez, get a fucking grip of yourself." Realizing she's actually talking to herself, she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it.

It's the lack of sex. That's all. She can barely remember the last time she's fucked someone, and decides in that instant that she is going home with someone tonight. Or maybe taking her home, just to keep Quinn up, depending on how long Santana has to wait for her to get ready.

All she has to do is have hot, sweaty, satisfying sex with some nameless girl that she'll charm her way into the pants of, and she'll stop finding Brittany so strangely attractive. That's it.

God, she's a genius.

/

"Quinn, will you get a fucking move on! I wants to get my drink on!" Santana yells through the apartment as she pours a generous amount of vodka into each glass, before topping hers up with lemonade and Quinn's up with tequila and cranberry juice.

"Talking like you're from the ghetto might have been somewhat cute in high school, despite how nice a place Lima Heights is, but you're an adult now Santana, at least by legal standards, so now you just sound like an idiot." Quinn breezes into the living room, attaching an earring to her left ear. Santana chooses to ignore that comment, hands Quinn the drink and gives her a once over.

"Damn Fabgay, looking good. Shame you're still a bitch."

"You too Lezpez. Are you planning on coming home tonight or should I look out some earplugs now?" Quinn shoots back, glancing down Santana's outfit. "I'm assuming you plan on finding some girl drunk enough to convince you're actually a nice person tonight?" Santana is wearing one of her tightest red dresses, which shows off her tits fantastically, and stops about halfway down her thighs.

Santana takes a large gulp of her drink, wincing as the vodka stings her throat, and throws a lecherous grin at Quinn.

"Oh I will definitely not be home tonight; it has been far too long since I last showed a girl the four wonders of the world." Quinn looks confused, and then disgusted when Santana wiggles her three middle fingers and sticks her tongue out at her.

"You're disgusting. Finish your drink, Kurt just texted me, they're already there." Santana throws the rest of her drink back and checks her purse to make sure she has her keys, money, ID and phone. She slips her sky high heels on and follows Quinn out the door.

/

An hour and half, four drinks and three shots of what smelled like paint stripper later Santana is definitely drunk. Not too drunk that she doesn't know what's going on, or can't speak or walk or anything. But definitely far passed the line of tipsy. She's dancing with Rachel and Finn, Berry's oaf of a boyfriend when Blaine and Kurt appear either side of her.

"Santana!" Blaine screams into her ear, and Santana is drunk enough to whirl round and pull him into a hug.

She's known Blaine for about two years now. He's in his final year at NYU, studying something vaguely music related, and he's about two years younger than Kurt, his boyfriend.

Santana went to high school with Kurt, along with Rachel, Quinn and Finn.

Rachel, despite being one of, if not _the _most annoying person Santana has ever met in high school, somehow infiltrated Quinn and Santana's circle of friends, and therefore brought Kurt and Finn with her.

Finn and Rachel have been on and off for about five years, and while their relationship is on at the moment, Santana wouldn't be surprised if they broke up again next week. Finn's a teacher at a local high school, and really only came to New York for Rachel, whose dream has been Broadway since she was probably still in the womb.

Kurt is the only person Santana has met who is gayer than she is, and he's an intern at Vogue. How flamboyantly appropriate.

Rachel and Finn vanish off somewhere, leaving Santana with her two best gays. It's around 10.30pm and Blaine, thankfully, is nowhere near as drunk as he was by this time on his birthday last year. It had been his 21st and therefore completely reasonable, Santana thinks, although she will never forget the look of horror on Kurt's face as his boyfriend threw up onto his brand new Armani pants. Kurt raises his voice to her over the loud thumping bass of some chart song.

"We were thinking of heading over to Rainbow after this, you in?" Rainbow is the most obviously named gay and lesbian club a few blocks from the bar they are currently at.

"Hell yes!" Santana yells back. Gesturing that she is going to the bar, she stumbles up and waves at the guy behind the bar.

"Puck! Can I get a glass of water?" Noah Puckerman, the owner of the mostly boringly named bar in New York, _Puckerman's Bar, _and one of Santana's closest friends after Quinn and Berry looks at her in disbelief.

"Water? When the fuck did you lose your balls Lopez?"

"Shut the fuck up Puckerman, I'm already pretty hammered and we're hitting Rainbow after this. Gotta be at least a bit coherent to rock some lucky girl's world." She smirks at Puck and he laughs as he fills a glass with water and hands it to her.

He leans over the bar and blatantly checks out her chest. "You know if you ever fail to pick up a chick, and fancy a ride on the Puckerman Express for old time's sakes, I'm not gonna say no."

"First off Puckerman, what have you done to your hair? It looks like roadkill. Second of all, when have you ever known me to fail at picking up a girl?" Not giving Puck a chance to answer either question, she carries on. "And thirdly, I took a ride on the Puckerman Express. Several rides actually. And look how incredibly gay I turned out!"

Puck shoves her arm good-naturedly as Quinn appears from the crowd and stumbles towards them.

"Puck!" She screams, leaning across the bar and planting a kiss on Puck's cheek. Thank god Quinn and Puck were able to stay friends after their messy break-up in senior year. Puck's bar is actually really good, midway between the studio and Santana's apartment, and knowing the owner certainly helps Santana whenever she wants to get wasted quickly.

Quinn wobbles as she turns to Santana. "Kurt said we're about to leave! Come on!" God, Quinn is _hammered._ Santana almost doesn't want to score tonight, just so she can laugh evilly at Quinn's hangover tomorrow. Then she catches a flash of blond in the crowd as Quinn tugs her towards the entrance, and remembers the main reason she wanted to get really drunk tonight.

/

Rainbow is packed. It's a Saturday, so that is to be expected, but Santana's never seen so many gays in one place. And she was at last year's Pride Parade. She's hitting on some drunk looking redhead when Berry appears next to her and flings her short arms around Santana's neck.

"Santanaaaa, come dance with us." Okay Berry is equally as hammered as Quinn. She's about to tell Berry to get the fuck off her when Redhead glares at her, whirls around and walks off into the crowd without a word. Santana glares down at the tiny brunette hanging off her, and is about to shout at her when Quinn trips into her as well. Having two hot girls hanging off each arm should really be Santana's dream, but when they're Rachel and Quinn, that takes the fun out of it slightly.

"Rachel!" Quinn screams, seemingly just noticing her on the other side of Santana. Rachel screeches something unintelligible back, and they link arms and wobble back into the crowd, leaving Santana on her own.

She snorts. She's nowhere near drunk enough for this shit.

Her buzz from Puckerman's has faded slightly, a fact she plans to remedy immediately. She shoves her way through various gays before getting to the bar.

She subtly checks out the bartender who serves her and quickly stops when she realizes she's slept with her before. Santana thinks this was the one that left nails marks down her back so deep she couldn't wear backless dresses for the next two weeks. After paying Nails, for the shot which she quickly throws back, and the drink she picks up and takes a large gulp of, she turns around and surveys the dance floor.

Santana's about to down the rest of her drink when she spots them.

She blinks to make sure she's not suddenly drunk enough to start seeing things, but no, that's definitely Tina dancing next to the speakers. She assumes the tall Asian boy with her is the Mike Chang she's heard Tina go on and on about. Santana wonders what on earth they're doing here. She figures they could have gay friends, but they look like they're on their own, and Rainbow is hardly the number one destination for a romantic evening out.

Santana is about to go and say, or probably slur, hello to her when the Rachel Maddow lookalike next to them moves out the way, and Santana freezes.

Brittany is here. And she is _definitely_ not alone.

She's wearing a tight blue dress that clings to every single one of her delicious curves, and that stops basically just below her ass, and her bare arms are looped around the neck of the dark haired girl she's dancing, or technically grinding with.

Santana's never been turned on just by the sight of someone's _arms _before, but she can feel her mouth getting dry as she sweeps her gaze along the expanse of skin. She's seen Brittany in tshirts before, but they're usually baseball ones that stop three quarters of the way down her arms. Her arms are incredibly toned and muscly, not like freakishly so, but enough so that Santana can see them flexing slightly as she brings one arm up to brush hair out of the other girl's face.

Who's leaning in to kiss her. Fuck.

Santana doesn't know why she can't look away, but she keeps her gaze locked onto the two girls as the brunette presses her lips against Brittany's. From the way Brittany smiles into the kiss, and threads her arms around the other girl's waist, Santana is pretty sure this is not the first kiss they've shared.

She tries to remember if Quinn's harping on and on about Brittany had ever included a girlfriend, but comes up empty. She didn't even know Brittany was into chicks. Clearly she is though; if the way her eyes flutter shut in pleasure as Mystery Girl moves to kiss down Brittany's neck is any indication.

Santana feels arousal pool between her legs as she watches Brittany bite down on her bottom lip, as the other girl grabs at Brittany's ass with one hand, and tugs her head back using her hair with the other.

Of course Brittany would be at this bar. Out of the hundred clubs in New York, Brittany _would_ be at this one. Just when Santana was trying to forget about her.

She had to stop this, she couldn't keep thinking of Brittany, _her employee, _this way.

It was unprofessional, she was dubious about the legality of it, and she knew if something even happened between her and Brittany, if the media got wind of it, Lopez-Fabray would lose all credibility. Fuck, why did they have to be good enough to be relatively famous?

Santana is broken from her thoughts when Brittany eyes shoot open and lock straight onto her. _Shit. _Santana whirls back around to face the bar, hoping that Brittany hasn't seen her. Being caught leering at her employee was one thing, being caught staring hungrily at her as she makes out with another girl is completely different. She waves at Nails behind the bar again, and orders a stronger drink.

/

The first thing Santana hears the next morning is a loud thud, followed by a groan.

She cracks her eyes open, and immediately shuts them again as the sunlight filtering through the curtains hits her. A wave of nausea joins the pounding in her head she has just become aware of, and she breathes deeply through her nose, trying not to throw up. She has no idea where she is yet, and if she's in some random girl's bed, she doesn't particularly want to leave her mark in the form of vomit stains on the duvet.

Once she feels like she's not going to bring up her internal organs, she slowly opens her eyes.

She's in her own bed. Alone.

There's no sign of anyone else being here, or having been here. Santana groans as she realizes she's still wearing her underwear from last night.

She didn't score.

She went out with the specific intention of finding a girl, and having said girl fuck her frustrations out so she stopped perving on Brittany.

Brittany.

Fuck, she saw Brittany and that girl last night.

Brittany saw Santana seeing Brittany and that girl last night.

_Fuck._

Tomorrow is going to be awkward.

As she's contemplating just staying in bed the rest of the day, she hears somebody groaning loudly from the bathroom through her bedroom wall, followed by what is definitely the sound of someone throwing up. Santana cackles in delight at Quinn being worse off than her, but the motion hurts her head and makes her feel sick again.

She slowly drags herself out of bed and pulls on some sweatpants and a tank top, stumbling through to the kitchen to make some coffee. What she doesn't expect when she strolls through looking homeless, is for Finn Hudson to be sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee out of _her _I Heart NY mug.

"What the hell are you doing here Jolly Green?"

He glances up at her over the newspaper he's reading and smiles at her. "Morning Santana." He says, far too cheerfully for a… 10.30am on a Sunday morning. Then Santana remembers he wasn't drinking last night. Bastard. "I drove Quinn and Rachel here, Rachel was insisting on staying with Quinn. They went into Quinn's room as soon as we got here, and I, uh, I was tired so I just crashed on your sofa. I hope that was alright." Finn trails off nervously. Santana doesn't really care. But while Quinn is still dying in the bathroom, and the hobbit is nowhere to be seen, she decides to interrogate Finn.

"Do you know when I left?" The last thing she remembers is Brittany seeing her, and ordering another drink from girl with the nails. After that it's just a blur.

Finn takes another sip of coffee. "Um, around 2am I think? You came over to Quinn shouting about someone called Brittany, and you kept saying something about grabby hands, and then you said you were leaving. I just figured you'd gone home with someone."

Santana freezes. She said something about Brittany?

She doesn't even think to yell at Finn for letting her wander off drunk, by herself, in the middle of the night, she starts panicking instead.

Oh God, what the fuck did she say to Quinn about Brittany?

She's almost a hundred per cent certain Quinn won't remember whatever she said, if the sounds still coming from the bathroom are any indication, but still. Fuck, what if Berry heard? No matter how drunk Rachel gets, she can usually still remember most of her nights.

Finn breaks her thoughts. "Um, are you alright Santana? You look like you're gonna hurl." She shakes her head and nods tightly at him, walking over to the coffee machine. She decides to just not bring it up, and hopefully if anyone remembers, they won't bring it up either. It's a pretty terrible plan, but it's all she has.

Quinn comes out of the bathroom about 20 minutes later, as Santana is trying to stomach some toast Finn made her. She looks awful. Her hair is sticking up all over the place and she still looks a little green. That's not what really catches Santana's attention though. The hickey on Quinn's neck does.

"Fabray!" She says, and almost as if Quinn knows what she's going to say, widens her eyes and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Santana gets the message; Quinn doesn't want to talk about it yet, at least not with Finn sitting there and with Berry still somewhere in the apartment. Which Santana can understand. Finn and Rachel are two of the nosiest people she's ever met.

"Where's Rachel?" Finn butts in, smirking at Quinn's hungover state.

"Still asleep. I'll go wake her." Quinn sounds like she's swallowed glass. Santana narrows her eyes at her best friend as she shuffles down the hall and into her bedroom.

That hickey is definitely from last night, but of course Santana was far too wasted to notice if Quinn made out with anyone. She's not finished with this though, any chance to pry into Quinn's love life is not a chance she'll pass up.

Berry appears a minute later, looking almost as bad as Quinn. Finn is desperately trying to hold back laughter at the sight of his girlfriend dwarfed in Quinn's pyjamas.

"Coffee. I need coffee." That's possibly the shortest sentence Santana has ever heard Rachel utter.

Finn stands up and lumbers over to help his midget with making coffee, and Quinn comes into the kitchen. Santana can see the concealer Quinn's hastily smeared over her neck and simply raises her eyebrows at her. Quinn avoids looking at her and walks towards the toaster.

Well this is certainly interesting; Quinn can't even look at her. She's definitely quizzing Quinn about this when the giant and the dwarf leave.

/

Except Jolly Green and Frodo just won't leave. It's now around 6pm, and the four of them have been at the apartment all day. Thankfully Finn is finally about to fuck off, as he has papers to grade or something mundane like that. Santana prays Berry goes with him.

She does. Thank fuck. Almost as soon as the door closes behind them, Quinn shuts her eyes like she knows what's coming.

"Nice hickey Fabray."

"Drop it, Santana." Santana raises her eyebrows. She expects Quinn to make a joke, or tell her to shut up, but telling her to drop it? Quinn really doesn't want to talk about this. So of course, Santana presses her more.

"Who was it? They good?"

Quinn raises her head and levels a stare at Santana. "Santana, please. I don't ask you for much, really, but please can we not talk about this?"

Santana doesn't feel up to arguing yet, so she just nods and changes the subject. "Chinese?" She says, whipping out her phone and finding the nearest Chinese delivery place's number. She'll just bug Quinn about the mystery hickey another time.


	4. Chapter Four

Hello again :) thank you so much for the reviews/favourites/etc :) This chapter is slightly shorter than the previous two, but it's basically all Brittana interaction which I hope makes up for it lol. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER FOUR

Santana doesn't even make it to work before bumping into Brittany on Monday morning.

Quinn is still feeling horrendous from Saturday and is taking the morning off, so Santana is on her own on her subway ride to the studio. Walking out of the station and back into dubiously fresh air, she heads into the Starbucks across the road from the studio, and promptly crashes into Brittany, who is walking out.

"Shit! Sorry Brittany wasn't paying attention again, as usual." Santana awkwardly giggles at the end of her sentence as Brittany just looks at her. She prays with everything she has that Brittany won't ask her about her blatant perving on Saturday night.

Thankfully Brittany's beautiful face breaks out into a grin that's way too happy for this time in the morning. "No problem Santana. How are you?"

Santana internally breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm good. Bit tired, so I needs my coffee. What about you? Quinn's still hungover from Saturday so she probably won't be in today." Santana nearly smacks herself in the face. _Why_ bring up Saturday? Maybe if they just don't talk about it, it'll just go away, and they can pretend it never ever happened. Santana would be thrilled with that.

Brittany doesn't bother to answer. Instead, she grins and spins around to walk back into Starbucks. Confused, Santana follows her.

"Brittany you already have coffee." She points out.

Brittany waves goofily at Ryder, who's standing behind the counter serving a grumpy looking teenager, before turning back to Santana. "I'm buying you your coffee silly. I never got to return the favor from the first day we met."

Santana is about to protest, when Brittany pouts at her.

Oh God. Santana is fucked. As long as Brittany is in possession of that pout, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to say no to the blond.

_This is great, just fucking fantastic_, Santana thinks to herself, _yet another weekend gone by where you didn't get any, and look how it's making you feel._

Brittany bounds up to the counter and high fives Ryder. Santana wonders how his date went with Unique. She hasn't heard Quinn bitching about any equipment being "accidentally" destroyed, which has actually happened twice in the photography department after somebody got dumped, so she assumes it went well.

"Santana, what would you like?" Santana just manages to stop herself from blurting out _you_ or something equally inappropriate to Brittany and looks up at the menu. She doesn't even know why she does that, she has the same thing every day she comes in here, but she just can't look Brittany in the eye or she definitely will blurt something idiotic out. She fixes her gaze on Ryder, who's smirking like he knows something she doesn't, and asks for a grande caramel macchiato.

"So how was your weekend?" Again, _why _does she say that? Santana never usually loses her cool around pretty girls, but apparently she does just for Brittany. Fantastic.

Brittany takes a sip of her shockingly pink drink before answering. "It was good. I went out with Tina and Mike on Saturday night, then just hung out with Sam on Sunday. How was yours?" Santana vaguely remembers hearing Quinn mention that Sam and Brittany live together. Santana chooses to ignore the feeling in her stomach that feels suspiciously like jealousy in favor of answering Brittany.

"Bit of a blur to be honest," Santana decides instantly her new favorite sound is making Brittany laugh that heavenly laugh. "I was out on Saturday as well, for a friend's birthday. I'm just glad I didn't drink as much as Quinn, I woke up on Sunday morning to the pleasant sounds of her throwing up."

Brittany crinkles her nose and Santana has to resist the urge to melt into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Ryder hands her the drink with a cheerful "Have a nice day!" and Santana and Brittany both head towards the door.

Santana holds it open for Brittany to go first, and Brittany brushes past her with a shy smile. Santana can definitely see the hints of a blush painting Brittany's pretty face as she holds the door to the studio open for her as well.

The new assistant, a tiny blond called Kitty calls good morning to them as they walk past her to the elevator. Pressing the button to call the elevator, Santana steps back and waits.

She finds she doesn't mind the silence with Brittany. The elevator dings and the doors slide open.

Brittany presses the button for the second floor, and Santana presses for the third. Normally if there's a silence between her and someone she doesn't know well, it's awkward, but with Brittany it's comfortable. Not at all awkward.

Well, it doesn't get awkward until Brittany brushes some hair off her neck and Santana sees a faint bruise that she knows for a fact is a hickey, and images of Brittany and that mystery girl flood into her head. Thankfully, the elevator stops at the photography level, and Brittany steps out with a shy wave and a quiet "Bye Santana."

Santana continues one floor up to her department, and thinks about how utterly screwed she is.

/

Thankfully, Tina and her brilliance distract Santana for the entire day. They're still working on the Simpson project, and get a significant amount of work done for it today. 6pm rolls around, and Tina waves to Santana through her open office door as she walks to the elevator.

"See you tomorrow Santana!"

"Bye Tina. Enjoy your date!"

Apparently it's Chang-Squared's three year anniversary today. Santana is impressed, she has to admit. Her singular relationship had lasted about four months before it crashed and burned spectacularly.

_No. _Santana is definitely not going to think about _her._

She shakes her head to get the image of evil out of her mind, and begins clearing up her office.

Quinn, strangely, hasn't shown the entire day, and texted Santana around lunchtime to ask her to check the photography department was all cleared up when she finishes. Santana makes a mental note to talk to Quinn when she gets home; she never misses a full day of work. Something has to be up.

Santana walks to the elevator, wondering if she can bully Quinn into making food for her before she interrogates her when she gets home and arrives a floor down. Mentally listing the pros and cons of Indian versus Chinese food, she glances around the open plan of the photography floor, before sticking her head into Quinn's office to make sure there's no one lurking in there.

She's about to turn round and head back to the elevator when she hears a thud. Her heart leaps into her throat as she spins and looks wildly around. She hears another thud, and realizes they're coming from the darkroom.

Of fucking course they'd be coming from the _dark_room. If there's some crazy serial killer sneaking around, of course he'd hide in the darkroom. Santana creeps quietly towards the darkroom and nearly gets knocked over when someone comes rushing out.

"Oh my God! Santana! I thought I was the only one here!" Brittany squeaks.

Santana is still slightly winded from having Brittany's entire weight crash into her. "Uh no, I was just leaving. Quinn asked me to come check the photography department to make sure no one was here. Clearly you are though." _Way to state the obvious, Lopez._

"Oh okay." Brittany looks slightly disappointed, although Santana has absolutely no clue why. "I'll probably be another hour though; I need to finish these photos for tomorrow."

Santana sighs, before swallowing her pride. "Do you need a hand? I know Quinn's the photography expert but I can try?"

Brittany's face lights up. "Would you? Thank you so much San, I owe you!" She turns round and rushes back into the darkroom. Santana wonders for a second if that was Brittany's plan all along before she realizes Brittany called her_ San. _Not Santana_. San. _She thinks she could get used to that nickname coming from Brittany's lips.

/

Santana is in trouble. Big trouble.

Not only is Brittany smoking hot, she's also funny. And smart. And kind. And sweet.

This is the first opportunity she's had to spend an extended amount of time with the blond and she's starting to think that maybe these strange feelings for Brittany are running slightly deeper than just wanting to fuck her.

Don't get her wrong, she still wants to, like she said, Brittany is incredibly hot, but Santana wishes that was it.

She's employed attractive girls before that she wouldn't say no to, and she's never had a problem before. She could handle wanting to just fuck Brittany, she's hardly some animal that can't control herself.

But the idea that she might actually _like _Brittany scares the shit out of her. She hasn't had genuine feelings for a girl since high school. And considering how disastrous _that_ had been, Santana isn't too into the idea of making that particular mistake again.

"Santana!" Brittany's voice cuts through her thoughts.

"Hmm, what?"

Brittany giggles at her, and Santana tries desperately not to swoon. "Do you always zone out so much? I asked how long you've known Quinn."

Santana tries to fight the flush she can feel spread to her cheeks. "Since freshman year of high school. We were both on the cheerleading team, and in the same art class. Then when we both got into Tisch, we moved here once we graduated. And voila." Santana lamely waves her arm around the studio they're standing in.

Brittany giggles, and Santana wonders if she's really as funny as Brittany's laughter seems to suggest. She hopes so. Brittany's phone buzzes and she pulls it out, reading the text on the screen.

"Everything alright?" Santana asks nervously, not knowing if she's crossing a line or not. Although she's pretty sure a line gets crossed every time she fantasizes about what Brittany looks like naked. Which is an embarrassing amount.

"Yeah," Brittany pockets the phone again. "Just Sam asking where I am."

"Does he want to know if you like green eggs and ham?" There's a deafening pause. Santana has said a lot of ridiculous and stupid things in her life, but that might possibly have topped them all.

There's a moment of silence as Brittany just stares at her, and Santana wishes for the floor to swallow her up, before Brittany bursts out laughing. Santana glances at Brittany, in disbelief that her horrific joke amuses her that much.

"Sorry, I, uh, it's just I was so tempted to add that on, but I didn't want to sound so lame." Brittany giggles again. "But thank you for saying it so I don't look like the lame one." Santana can't even be offended; Brittany looks so adorable smirking up at her from across the table they're working at.

"I'm not lame!" Santana protests, "I just really like Dr. Seuss."

"What's your excuse?"

Now Santana's confused. "What?"

"Well Sam and I like Dr. Seuss cause we both have little sisters, and you don't so… What's your excuse?"

"How do you know I don't have any siblings?"

"Quinn told me." Brittany replies nonchalantly, not even glancing up from the photos she's arranging. Santana nearly drops the photo she's holding. Quinn and Brittany talk about her? Brittany's asked Quinn about her? Oh God.

"Oh." Santana breathes. Brittany looks at her, clearly not wanting to drop the Dr. Seuss question. Santana rolls her eyes dramatically. "Fine. I may or may not be a secret Dr. Seuss nerd. Happy?" She decides not to mention the huge collection of Dr. Seuss hidden on the top shelf of her closet.

"Ecstasy!" Santana is floored for a minute, before realizing Brittany probably means ecstatic, rather than suddenly deciding to share her dreams of being a drug lord. She's heard Brittany mix up similar sounding words before, and she can't help but find it adorable.

_Fuck, _what is wrong with her?!

Before she met Brittany, she doesn't think she'd ever used the words adorable, or cute, before. Now they seem to be becoming a regular part of Santana's inner vocabulary.

Brittany launches into a story about how she drove from Los Angeles up to San Francisco to buy her little sister Ashley a copy of some children's book that nowhere in LA had in stock.

Santana doesn't even bother trying to hide the dopey smile she can feel spreading across her face, because _fuck, _this girl is so ridiculously out of her league it's almost funny.

/

Once Brittany has sorted out the photos to her standards, her and Santana tidy up and walk towards the elevator. "You've never tried frozen yogurt? What is wrong with you Santana!" Brittany exclaims indignantly.

Santana shrugs. "I just don't see the point. If I want yogurt, I'll have yogurt, if I want something cold I can just have ice cream." Brittany still doesn't look convinced, and presses on as they exit the elevator and walk towards the front door.

"That's not the point San!" Santana tries to ignore the delicious shudder that runs through her body at the nickname. "Frozen yogurt isn't the same as ice cream; in fact it's probably better! I cannot believe you've never tried it." Brittany seems so personally offended that Santana has never had frozen yogurt in her life that she can't help the laugh that bubbles up her throat. Brittany turns round to glare at her, except Brittany is about as threatening as a kitten, so Santana just laughs harder. "Stop laughing at me." Brittany pouts.

"I'm not laughing at you Britt, I promise." Santana smiles softly at the gorgeous blond in front of her. Brittany beams back at her, and Santana wonders what she did for Brittany to look at her like that when she realizes the nickname that slipped out.

She wonders if she should take it back, but she has no idea how to without seriously offending Brittany. Brittany looks like she's debating something in her head, but Santana doesn't get a chance to ask what for as she is tugged forward into a hug.

Santana thinks she's forgotten how to breathe.

Like, she literally doesn't know how to expand her lungs to take in oxygen, because all she can focus on is the entire length of Brittany's body pressed against hers.

Santana never knew a simple _hug _could feel so good, but then again, the only people she ever really hugs are Quinn and Kurt, and occasionally Berry if she's drunk, none of which she has any form of attraction to.

And she only hugs them on very rare occasions. Like after break ups, or on Margarita Mondays.

Santana feels Brittany's arms tighten slightly around her body and she tries desperately to stop focusing on the way she can feel Brittany's chest pressing against hers, even through like five layers of fabric. After hearing Brittany sigh quietly into her ear, she finally remembers how to breathe and move her limbs, and wraps her arms around Brittany's back. She has no idea why Brittany is even hugging her, but she couldn't give two shits at this point, Brittany feels so wonderfully amazing pressed against her.

She inhales, and if Brittany didn't have her arms tightly around her, she'd probably fall over. Brittany smells _so _good. Santana can smell coconut from her hair, and she can faintly smell her perfume as well. It's a heavenly combination, and she tries to inhale as much of it as she can, hoping Brittany doesn't actually notice Santana literally sniffing at her, because if Brittany doesn't think Santana is weird yet, this might possibly convince her.

Brittany pulls back from the hug with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, um, I don't know if hugging your boss is entirely appropriate, but I just wanted to thank you for staying with me. The studio's kind of scary at night when you're on your own." Brittany casts her eyes down, as if she's ashamed for being creeped out being left in the studio.

"Don't worry about it Britt. I know what you mean; it's creepy as fuck when all the lights are off and you're the only one there. Besides all I was going to do when I got home was annoy Quinn until she got off her ass and made me dinner."

Brittany giggles again. "I have to get going San, but I'll see you tomorrow." She smiles her gorgeous smile at Santana, who tries not to melt. "Um, I had a really good time tonight." Brittany adds on quietly, glancing up at Santana from under her eyelashes. Santana gulps.

"Me, uh, me too Britt. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night." Santana forces her body to turn away from Brittany and start walking towards the subway station before the blond can even reply.

Shit. She has real feelings for Brittany. _Shit._


	5. Chapter Five

This chapter probably would have been out slightly earlier, but I got distracted crying over Make No Mistake She's Mine, and then again by Naya in that cheerleading uniform in the sneak peek video :P

This is a particularly long chapter, and I hope you all like it :) I know some of you might not like Santana's actions at the end of the chapter, but remember that this is Santana we're talking about.

Also, this is completely AU, so pretty much everything that happened in Glee canon has not happened here. Quinn wasn't pregnant, Kurt never went to Dalton, Finn never outed Santana (although he's still a douche) etc. The incident Santana talks about in the second paragraph is something completely different.

For anyone who would like to follow my particular brand of insanity, crying over bands, and flailing over Heather and Naya, my tumblr is hi-my-name-is-zoe then the usual tumblr url :)

Enjoy! And drop me a review if you're feeling kind :)

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

Santana groans, and lets her head drop into her hands.

She is so utterly fucked it's almost a joke. Like, if this were happening to anyone else, literally _anyone _else on the planet, even Quinn or Kurt, Santana would make fun of them, laugh at them, and then probably insult them.

But of course, it's happening to her.

_She _is the one who cannot stop thinking about Brittany.

It's been a week since their little late night rendezvous in the photography department, and Santana has been going steadily insane as each day passes. Every time she sees Brittany at the studio, Brittany's whole face lights up as she shoots a smile at Santana, and she melts just a little bit more. Each time they happen to be in the elevator together, Brittany "accidentally" brushes against Santana on her way out, leaving Santana with the memory of her perfume to drive her crazy the rest of the day.

Of the four times they've been at Starbucks at the same time before getting to the studio, Brittany has insisted on paying for Santana's coffee three of them. The only reason Santana managed to pay for their coffee the fourth time is because Ryder asked Brittany if she wanted anything from the pastry counter, and Santana thrust a handful of dollars at him while Brittany was suitably distracted by the colorful donut section. The soft smile she'd given Santana when she realized the Latina had bought her drink was _that_ one where she met Santana's eye and slowly let the corners of her lips tug up. More specifically, the smile that made Santana's heart start thumping erratically in her chest.

God, Santana is starting to recognize the different types of Brittany's smiles.

_Ridiculous._

Santana doesn't really know how to deal with the fact she likes, like, _likes, _Brittany.

Obviously it's not about Brittany being a girl, Santana's known she was gay since she was 15, and despite the _incident _that revealed her sexuality to the entire school, she's not ashamed of who she is.

It's not about Santana being her superior either, because as long as Brittany is an employee of Lopez-Fabray Design, Santana isn't even going to do anything about her irritatingly persistent feelings. She doesn't want Brittany thinking she's some kind of creepy sexual predator. She doesn't really want to think about what would happen if _Brittany's _the one who initiates something.

Santana decides it's the depth of her feelings for Brittany that probably scares her most. She can't even begin to try and deny that she has feelings beyond friendship for Brittany, because last Monday night, it was really just a harmless crush, and an undeniable lust for Brittany, but now, it's real, genuine, _I-want-to-date-you_ feelings. Santana could almost feel the shift between crush and feelings during that night when Brittany was animatedly telling Santana about her favorite photo she'd ever taken.

It would be so much easier to deal with if Brittany wasn't so god damn _perfect._

Santana would be fine with just knowing the basic details about Brittany; that she's 23, grew up in San Francisco, moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA and then moved to New York after graduating.

She could probably deal with knowing regular things like her favorite color, _(I told you in my interview San, I don't like picking favorites… But the other colors understand if I like blue just a bit more.)_ or her favorite animal_ (Feeding the ducks is probably what I miss the most about San Francisco. There was a park with a duck pond beside my house and my sister and I used to go to feed them every Saturday morning. They're my favorite animal cause they remind me of her.) _but knowing the little things about Brittany are a bit too far into _I-have-a-hopeless-crush-on-you _for Santana to be entirely comfortable with.

Like how she twirls a piece of hair around her finger when she's thinking. Or bites her bottom lip softly when she's concentrating hard on something. Or how she squints slightly when she's confused, except her right eye squints just that tiny bit more than her left. Santana should probably have stopped staring at Brittany like a creeper when she noticed that last one, but she couldn't help it.

Brittany's so… _Mesmerizing._

_God, _Santana snorts, breaking the silence in her empty office, _she sounds like Berry._

She's debating the long term medical risks of actually bashing her head off the desk in front of her to try and stop thinking about Brittany, when her office phone rings. She musters up the remnants of politeness that are left in her at 5.45pm on a Monday evening, and answers the phone. "Hello?"

/

Ten minutes later she's glaring at the elevator screen, willing it to hurry up, as it takes what feels like a year to move one floor down. As soon as the elevator doors are open wide enough for Santana to squeeze through, she dashes towards Quinn's office, and barges in without knocking.

"Fabray!" Santana gasps out excitedly. Quinn nearly leaps out her chair in shock, almost knocking over the still full cup of coffee Santana brought for her an hour ago, and frantically runs her hands through her hair.

"Jesus, Lopez, haven't you heard of knocking?" Quinn asks, her eyes darting from side to side wildly.

On any other occasion, Santana would have been immediately suspicious about how weird Quinn is acting, but for once, neither Brittany nor mocking Quinn are at the forefront of her mind. "I just got a call from Holly Holliday!"

Quinn stops sorting out each individual hair on her head to stare at Santana. "And… What did she say?"

Santana nods, a massive smile breaking out over her face. "She said yes! She wants to meet with us on Wednesday afternoon so we can pitch her our ideas!"

Quinn's jaw drops. "She did? Oh my God! This is amazing!" As she stands up to walk around her desk, Santana gives a passing thought to the fact she was sure Quinn had gone out this morning with tights on under her skirt, but brushes it off as simply her still functioning at her still half-asleep level at 8am.

Santana grabs Quinn's phone off the desk and punches in the number for the reception.

"Hello-"

"Kitty it's Santana, I need you to send out an email to all staff calling a meeting."

"Miss Lopez it's 5.55…"

"I am capable of telling the time Blondie, and I don't care what time it is, do it!"

Santana hangs up on Kitty without bothering to wait for a response, and starts walking towards the door. When she realizes Quinn isn't right behind her, she turns around quizzically.

"Are you coming or not?"

Quinn nods. "Yeah, I'll be through in a second, I just need to, um, finish something up." Santana narrows her eyes suspiciously. She knows there's something Quinn's not telling her, she's been suspicious ever since she spotted that hickey on Quinn's neck.

Unfortunately, getting Quinn to open up and talk to her is a task Santana doesn't feel up to unless there's a suitable amount of alcohol in close proximity. She'll just wait for Quinn to come to her. If she doesn't, then it's probably just Quinn being weird. If she does, then something's clearly wrong, and Santana can deal with it then. So she lets it go, and shrugs indifferently.

"Whatever, just hurry up." Santana walks out the door and closes it behind her. She's about to burst back in when she's certain she hears Quinn start talking to herself, when Brittany appears at the end of the hallway.

"Hey Britt." She smiles at the blond now walking towards her. _You're looking particularly delicious today_, she adds on in her head.

Clearly Brittany has somewhere to be, if the unamused expression on her face and her outfit are anything to go by. She's wearing a loose white shirt over some _exceedingly _tight black shorts, with black knee high socks over her legs. Santana gulps as a weird feeling settles in her stomach.

She wonders if Brittany has a date. She certainly looks it, either that or she's going out with her friends. Brittany doesn't seem the type to go and get drunk on a weekday, but Santana has been wrong before. Plus Brittany with a hangover is probably still her usual bright and cheerful self.

Brittany's head whips up at the sound of Santana's voice and she beams back at her. "Hey San. Enjoy your coffee this morning? You took off pretty quick once we got in here." Santana is trying to come up with a way to answer Brittany without saying _you looked so hot and if I spent another second alone with you in that elevator I would have forgotten about the damn coffee and office protocol and had you against the wall instead, _when Quinn's door opens behind her.

Quinn just looks at Santana. _"Hurry up."_ She mimics the Latina, taking off down the hall towards the meeting room. Santana rolls her eyes and follows her best friend into the room, where most of the staff are already seated, looking slightly disgruntled at being kept past 6pm.

"Okay!" Quinn raises her voice over the low murmur as she walks to the front of the room, Santana right behind her. Brittany sits down in a spare seat next to Sugar Motta, one of the studio's employed models, and crosses her legs. Her mostly bare legs. Santana gulps. Oh God. "I'm sorry for keeping you all late, but this is important. How many of you have heard of Holly Holliday?"

Every person in the room raises their hands. "That's what I thought. Well, Santana has just been on the phone with Miss Holliday, negotiating a deal." A low hum goes around the room. Quinn nudges Santana, prompting her to continue, and Santana tears her eyes away from Brittany's legs and clears her throat.

"Miss Holliday wants her company to be completely rebranded. Every single thing redone from scratch. And provided the pitch goes well on Wednesday, we are the company that will be doing it."

The low hum around the room escalates until everyone is talking loudly over each other. Quinn tries to start talking again, but nobody is listening to her.

"Guys! Shut the hell up!" Santana shouts, quieting everyone down. Quinn glares at her, and okay, she probably could have been more polite, but they wouldn't shut up, so whatever, Quinn can deal. "You were saying, Quinn?" Santana prompts, smirking at the irritated blond.

"As Hollidaze is having a complete overhaul, all three departments are going to be working together on this. This is a very big project ladies and gentlemen, so I expect you _all _to be working to the highest of your abilities the next couple of months." Quinn glances around the room, narrowing her eyes in particular at Rory Flanagan, an Irish guy in the animation department. "There will be another meeting tomorrow where you will all be briefed on what this project will entail, and we shall be picking one person from each department to help Santana and I pitch this to Holly and her team on Wednesday. So we will see you all tomorrow." Quinn dismisses everyone with a wave of her hand, and shoots out the door. There's definitely something up with her, but Santana is determined to wait it out until Quinn comes to her. Nothing good has ever come from pressing Quinn Fabray on something she does not want to talk about.

/

Holly Holliday's arrival at the studio on Wednesday at 3pm brings along with it a horde of paparazzi. In retrospect, Santana should probably have expected that was what was going to happen when you have a meeting in person with one of the biggest business tycoons in America.

She watches Holly climb out of her limo and flash her dazzling smile towards the nearest photographer, before replying to whatever invasive question he probably asked. Santana is standing by the window of the meeting room, watching the chaos outside when the door opens behind her. She turns round to watch Sam and Rory carry in a massive whiteboard, which they place at the front of the room.

Rory shoots her a nervous smile as they leave, while Sam just beams at her and flashes her a thumbs up along with a dorky smile. She doesn't really blame Rory for being terrified of her. He was the last person she had one of her infamous Lopez Rants at when she caught him sleeping in the printer room.

She looks back out the window and sees Holly's bodyguard barge his way through the crowd, towing the blond behind him. The door behind her opens again, and Tina, Brittany and Adam walk in. Aside from Santana and Quinn, Adam Crawford has probably worked at Lopez-Fabray Design the longest, in animation. Tina's one of the few employees in advertising Santana actually trusts not to fuck up in the pitch, and Quinn was always going to pick Brittany.

"So, everybody knows what they're saying, and when to say it?" Santana asks, flicking her gaze between the three people stood in front of her. She tries not to let her gaze linger on Brittany too long, because as cute as the blond looks today, she cannot be anything other than professional. If the collaboration with Jesse St. James had put them into the middle league, this project with Hollidaze would kick them up into the _big _league. If Santana can stop drooling over her employee long enough to actually talk to Holly, that is.

She hears Quinn's excited voice coming down the corridor, and glares at the other three until they scramble to stand in their respective places. As Brittany walks past her, she brushes her fingers over the back of Santana's hand and leans forward to whisper in her ear. "You'll be great Santana. I believe in you."

It's such a cheesy thing to say, such a _Brittany_ thing to say, and yet it's still one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to Santana.

She can probably count on one hand the number of people who have said they believe in her; Quinn, Kurt, Rachel and her abuela.

Santana can feel her heart start thumping harder in her chest, and she knows it's not because of the blond billionaire that basically holds the future of Santana's company in her perfectly manicured hands that just swept into the room saying something about tacos; it's because of the blond who's smiling at her from across the room, looking at Santana like she believes she can do anything.

/

Puck looks slightly terrified at the sudden surge of people that appear in his bar just before 7pm, led by his best friend and his ex-girlfriend.

"Puckerman! Champagne! We have some celebrating to do!" Santana knows she sounds like an overeager child, and if she looks anything like Quinn does now, she definitely looks like one too, but fuck it, she doesn't care.

Bewildered, Puck just walks to the end of the bar and opens the refrigerator, pulling a bottle of champagne out and putting it into an ice bucket. "What's with the celebration?" He asks.

"Guess which graphics company is doing the complete overhaul for Hollidaze?" Santana can hear the gloating tone seep into Quinn's voice, and she's thrilled her best friend seems to finally be out of that weird funk Santana still thinks was caused by that mysterious hickey.

Puck nearly drops the bottle. "No way! Dudes congrats, that's so fucking cool! Wait," His expression suddenly changes, looking thoughtful, or at least as thoughtful as Puck can. "Did you meet Holly? What a fucking hottie!" He grins, and waggles his eyebrows at Santana and Quinn. Santana laughs, while Quinn just rolls her eyes and sticks her hand out for the champagne.

Sam and Tina have commandeered the largest booth in the corner of the bar, and it's just about big enough to squeeze everyone in. Santana slides in next to Unique, who is furiously texting on her phone.

"Santana!" Unique whips her head round. "The deal's closed and everything right? I can tell people about it?" Santana nods. "Fabulous! I know this is just supposed to be a staff only thing but can I ask Ryder if he wants to join us?"

Santana takes a sip of the glass of champagne Quinn sets in front of her. "Yeah of course. How are you and Bieber Fever anyway?"

Unique is in the middle of a story about their most recent date, when Santana notices Brittany is still standing at the bar, talking to Puck. She narrows her eyes in their direction, watching as Brittany tosses her head back, laughing at something Puck said.

Santana knows Puck as well as she knows herself, and he is definitely not going to bother keeping his leering subtle with the dress Brittany has on. Santana isn't going to say that the feeling that sweeps over her seeing Puck smirking at Brittany like that is jealousy, but she's not going to deny it either.

Tuning Unique out, she stands up and makes her way towards the bar.

"Hey Shithead, hey Britt." Puck and Brittany both look at her as she slides up next to Brittany, leaning forward and resting her arms on the bar. "Stop hitting on my employees Puckerman." She levels a glare at him. Brittany giggles next to her as Puck dramatically brings his hands up.

"Who said anything about hitting on anyone?"

"Puck you named yourself a Sex Shark in high school. Despite how monumentally idiotic it made you sound, it was unfortunately true, and it still is. I don't really care who you spread your diseases to, but please refrain yourself from infecting my staff." Puck splutters, and Santana ignores him in favor of Brittany. She glances at the drink Brittany is holding. "You know we have a whole bottle of champagne free of charge at the table right?" She arches an eyebrow. "You don't have to pay for any of your drinks here tonight, they're on the house." She hears Puck start grumbling again behind her, but she tunes him out again.

Brittany suddenly looks slightly embarrassed. She glances down, then nervously at Puck, before shifting slightly closer to Santana. "Um, I have to tell you something." Santana raises her eyebrows, prompting her to continue. She tries to ignore how close Brittany's body is to hers. "You know how you get like, different… Types, of drunks?" Santana nods. Brittany glances around again before taking a deep breath. "Uh, I'm kind of like the stripper drunk, I guess, and champagne is like my weakness. So I figure I'll stick to water tonight, so I don't suddenly start trying to use someone as a pole when the next Britney song comes on. Probably not the best impression to give people you haven't known that long."

Santana thinks her brain shorts out somewhere between "stripper drunk" and "use someone". She can think of plenty of ways she'd like Brittany to use her.

She tries desperately to get the image of a half-naked Brittany dancing for her out of her head, and turns to Puck and asks for another bottle of champagne to get rid of him, because if the smirk on his face is any indication, he's thinking the exact same thing Santana is. Despite how often Santana imagines Brittany naked in her head, she doesn't want Puck doing it.

Definitely not jealousy, not at all.

"Britt, nobody will care what kind of drunk you are, everyone here likes you. Plus I'm pretty sure the straight male part of our staff with probably enjoy it anyway." Not that she wants any of those idiots drooling over Brittany.

"Don't lie, you'd enjoy it as well, Lezpez." Santana freezes. She's never actually punched, like _really_ punched Puck before, despite some of the revolting things he's said, but this is the first time she's actually wanted to. Then he opens his mouth again, and she wants to strangle him. "I mean, blondes are kinda your type."

Santana turns her head slowly to fix Puck with a death glare. She can feel Brittany's eyes burning into the side of her head, but she tries to ignore her in favor of giving Puck a look that clearly says _fuck off, or I will jump over the bar and castrate you._

Puck's eyes widen as the realization that he maybe shouldn't have said anything hits him, and he walks off down the bar mumbling something about another customer.

There's a slightly tense silence as Brittany looks at Santana and Santana looks at anything except Brittany. She doesn't care that Brittany now knows she's gay, or at least into chicks, but she's terrified Brittany will say something about that night at Rainbow. Santana still isn't sure if Brittany even _saw _her leering across the dance floor while Brittany got groped by that random girl, but if Brittany _did _and chooses now to bring it up, Santana has no idea what she's going to say.

Deciding to just get it over with, she takes a deep breath and brings her eyes up to meet Brittany's.

Brittany is smirking at her. She's staring into Santana's eyes and her lips are curved up into a smirk that's sending most of the heat in Santana's body to between her legs. Brittany leans forward and Santana tries not to faint as Brittany's lips brush against her ear as she whispers "Blondes are pretty hot and all, but I'm more of a brunette girl myself."

Santana's thinks her heart may have stopped.

Brittany just smirks wider as she leans back, seemingly completely aware of what she's doing to Santana, and picks up her drink. Her gaze drops briefly to Santana's lips before she walks over to the table without another word, her smirk still firmly in place.

Once her brain actually starts functioning again, Santana immediately starts over analyzing Brittany's comment. What the hell did she mean? Was she referring to brunettes in general, or Santana specifically? Was she even talking about girls? Santana quickly rules that one out, since unless Brittany was _exceedingly _wasted that night at Rainbow, she's at least bisexual.

Santana groans. She has _got _to stop this.

Even if Brittany is into chicks, hell even if she's into Santana specifically, she can't let anything happen. More for Brittany's sake for her own. If something happened between them and the media found out, Brittany's reputation would be ruined. She'd be known as_ the one who slept her way to the top_, despite how completely untrue that would be, and Santana can't let that happen to her.

"Puck!" She shouts, turning back towards the bar.

She decides to deal with her feelings the only way she knows how; by getting incredibly drunk, and possibly having sex with some random stranger.

Santana considers the possibly of picking up some girl on a night out that Brittany is a part of, and she's not sure if she'd be able to go through with it. It's not a case of finding a hot girl willing to go home with her, Santana may be incredibly narcissistic and egotistical, but it's totally warranted cause she knows she's hot, and she knows girls want her. It would be a case of would she be able to have sex with another girl and _not _fantasize about Brittany?

The gorgeous blond has definitely popped into Santana's mind during her increasingly frequent masturbating sessions more often than Santana would like to admit, but she can't help it, Brittany's _so _fucking hot. While imagining your employee while you get yourself off is already crossing the line, Santana doesn't want to have her face buried between some girl's legs and suddenly imagine it's Brittany she's licking at, Brittany moaning her name, Brittany tangling her hands in her hair, Brittany panting as she-

"Dude I'm sorry, I figured she knew." Puck's voice is a cold shower, breaking her from her increasingly dirty thoughts. She looks up at her mowhawked douche of a best friend.

"Whatever. Maybe think next time before you open your mouth, moron. You can make it up to me by getting me a round of tequila shots."

Puck meekly nods, and turns around, grabbing at the silver Patron bottle sitting beside the till.

/

Santana is drunk. Hammered. Wasted. Smashed. Sozzled. Plastered.

She's dancing with Tina, Sam and Ryder, and she has no idea which club they're even at. She remembers Ryder showing up at Puckerman's, and watching Unique, Tina and Brittany fawn over him. That warranted a second tequila shot.

She vaguely remembers Quinn calling Rachel and telling her to come out and join them, and to bring Kurt. She's definitely seen Kurt, and Blaine is here too, but she's not sure where either they, or Rachel and Quinn are. Tina and Sam are dramatically singing along to the song currently blasting through the loudspeakers, while Ryder is dancing like a fool with her. He spins her round and she wobbles, nearly crashing into the person next to her, who she realizes after blinking through her hazy vision, is Brittany.

"Britt!" She screams, throwing her arms around the blond's neck.

Unique squeezes past her to slide up next to Ryder, and they vanish into the heaving mass of people, leaving Santana with Brittany, Sam and Tina. Santana realizes what she's doing and carefully takes her arms back, looking sheepish.

Brittany just laughs, and then the song changes. Santana doesn't recognize the song. She thinks it might be Ke$ha, it's something with a heavy bass line and a steady thumping drumbeat, but whatever it is, Brittany recognizes it. Her eyes light up and she yells about _loving this song_. After Santana had brought over the round of tequila shots - _they're on the house, Fuckerman, this place gets plenty of my money as it is _– Brittany had decided to drink after all. A few hours on, and several shots later, Brittany is apparently sufficiently drunk enough to step closer to Santana and lean forward to shout into her ear.

"Dance with me, Santana!" And because Santana is already so ridiculously whipped by a girl she doesn't even have a chance with, and because she could never say no to Brittany, and possibly because she's very drunk herself, she agrees.

What she doesn't anticipate is how good a dancer Brittany is. Or how touchy a drunken Brittany is.

Santana tries to dance, she really does, but she keeps getting distracted by Brittany's body, literally within touching distance of her. She looks around for Sam and Tina, if they danced as a four, Brittany might not notice her idiotic dance "moves", but they've disappeared, leaving Brittany and her alone. Fantastic.

Brittany apparently gets sick of Santana's jerky movements that she's trying to pass off as dancing, and grabs Santana's wrists, tugging her arms forward until they're wrapped around Brittany's neck.

"You kinda looked like you were having a seizure." Brittany leans forward to shout over the music into Santana's ear, who nearly shoots a foot in the air when she feels Brittany's chest brush against her own. They're both wearing dresses; Brittany's a deep blue that stops about a quarter of the way down her thighs, showing off her mile long legs, while Santana's, black and skin-tight, dips across her chest, emphasizing her impressive cleavage. Santana tries to keep the moan in when she realizes there's only two layers of fabric separating their naked chests.

Then somebody behind Santana trips, or slips, or does something idiotic, and Santana suddenly feels herself unceremoniously shoved forward and into Brittany. She feels her heart stop for the second time that night as the entire front of her body presses against Brittany's.

Obviously, this isn't the first time she's been in this particular _position _with Brittany, after their first hug last Monday Brittany had taken it upon herself to hug Santana at least once every day, but this is the first time they've hugged while they've both been drunk, and also barely clothed. Brittany doesn't seem bothered by the amount of Santana suddenly in her arms, and just steps back slightly to put a few inches of space between them, and continues dancing. Santana tries desperately to keep dancing as well, trying to ignore the way her entire body is heating up at the way Brittany is rolling her hips in front of her.

Brittany's eyes are closed as she moves her body rhythmically to the beat of the song, so Santana trails her eyes down the front of the blond in front of her.

The blue dress clings to every one of Brittany's curves, and Santana feels her mouth go dry as her gaze lingers on the sheen of sweat that has collected across the tops of Brittany's breasts, visible thanks to the low neckline. She feels the urge to lean forward and press her lips against Brittany's chest, taste Brittany's skin, but tries to ignore it. She's almost tempted to find out who made the dress, and send a thank you note to the designer. If Brittany looks this good with clothes _on_, Santana wonders if she would actually combust if she ever happens to see Brittany naked.

"_Santana."_ The brunette in question freezes. Brittany's voice is a few octaves lower than normal; Santana can hear her even over the obnoxiously loud music, thanks to the complete lack of space between them.

She slowly drags her eyes up from Brittany's chest and gulps at the heated look the blond is sending her.

Santana might not know a lot about certain things, but she knows the look Brittany is giving her. She's seen that look aimed her way hundreds of times, from pervy guys in bars, to naked girls lying gasping underneath her. It's the look that screams _I want you._

Brittany wants Santana.

Brittany wants _her_.

Santana is having a hard time grasping this; that the woman she's been lusting after for weeks now is attracted to her as well. _Very _attracted, if the darkening blue of Brittany's eyes is anything to go by.

Nine times out of ten, if Santana was this close to a girl who's giving her the_ fuck me_ eyes, Santana would close the distance between their lips, and tease the shit out of the girl until she snapped and dragged Santana towards the club exit. Or the bathroom, Santana's not picky.

But because it's _Brittany, _because she's the tenth time, Santana can't do it. She respects Brittany far too much to let her be another victim of Santana's classy fuck-and-dash ways. Plus Santana wouldn't know how to handle the inevitable awkwardness at the studio for the rest of like, eternity.

She sees Brittany's gaze drop to her lips, and automatically her own drops to Brittany's.

She wants to kiss Brittany so fucking much, but she can't. She shouldn't.

It would be so far past the line of professionalism, and it would be wrong on so many fucking levels.

She _can't._

But her self-control is only so thin, and if she keeps staring at Brittany's lips or into her eyes, she's going to give in.

Any normal person that's about to kiss their employee would probably put space between them, apologize, and then walk, possibly run, through the crowd towards the exit.

But because Santana's a horny idiot, she instead leans forward and buries her head in Brittany's shoulder. She wants to keep dancing with Brittany, she definitely doesn't have enough willpower to deny herself that, but she can't keep eye contact with Brittany, or she'll end up doing something stupid. So she cuts the eye contact off by pressing even closer to Brittany, resting her forehead on Brittany's shoulder and tightening her arms around the blond's neck.

She feels the other woman inhale sharply, then relax, and slide her arms around Santana's waist. The professionalism line is already a hazy blur thanks to all the shots at Puckerman's, but as long as they don't actually kiss, and manage not to rip each other clothes off, she thinks they can just laugh this off tomorrow morning. Or possibly Friday morning, she'll probably cancel work tomorrow since everybody will have a horrific hangover. She knows her and Brittany certainly will.

The song changes again, and it's still a typical club song, heavy bass and rhythmic drum beat, but it's slightly slower than the previous one, and as the female voice starts coming through the speakers, Santana realizes quite how filthy the lyrics are. She gulps.

This isn't going to help the stickiness she's slowly starting to feel between her legs.

She inhales through her nose, hoping the "fresh" air of the club will clear her head slightly, but of course, as her face is pressed into Brittany's bare shoulder, all she inhales is the scent coming off the blond's skin. She smells of sweat, alcohol, and whatever perfume she sprayed herself with earlier, it's the typical _person in a nightclub _smell, but it sends another shock of arousal through Santana's body.

She spins around in Brittany's arms, her alcohol and arousal addled mind thinking it might help if she's not facing the blond.

It doesn't.

Brittany just steps closer so her entire front is pressed to Santana's back. Her arms slide back around Santana's waist, settling low on her stomach, her hands pressing into Santana's hips. Santana only just manages to keep the whimper in as she feels Brittany's breasts press into her back, and her hips settle against Santana's ass. Brittany leans forward slightly to rest her forehead onto the back of Santana's right shoulder, and Santana feels the blond exhale across her skin.

Santana is so ridiculously turned on at this point she's actually impressed with herself that she hasn't pounced on Brittany yet. She feels jolts of pleasure rip through her every time her thighs brush together, and she knows if Brittany were to slide her hand into Santana's underwear, she would find Santana absolutely soaked.

They would probably get arrested for indecent exposure, but Santana thinks it would probably be worth it to feel Brittany's fingers against her throbbing clit.

Santana actually does whimper when she realizes she's thinking about having sex with the blond for possibly the hundredth time that day, while said blond is actually pressed up against her, and lets her head fall back against Brittany's shoulder as she tries to get the images out of her head, to absolutely no avail.

Brittany probably heard her, but Santana has given up caring. Brittany's not stupid; Santana knows the blond is now well aware that Santana is into women and is definitely attracted to her.

The beat of the song quickens slightly and Santana feels Brittany's hips speed up to match the tempo. They roll into Santana's ass over and over again, and Brittany's arms tighten even more around her waist. Santana's mouth drops open slightly, and she hears herself moan. Brittany smirks against the skin of Santana's shoulder, so she knows Brittany heard her. She feels Brittany's lips brush against her shoulder, and she whimpers again, feeling Brittany's smirk grow.

Her competitive side flares up, and despite how inappropriate this is, she doesn't want to let Brittany outdo her. The next time Brittany rolls her hips into Santana, Santana grinds back, lifting her right arm to slide behind Brittany's head and tangle in her hair. Her other arm rests on top of Brittany's, and it's the first real skin-on-skin contact the two women have shared the whole night. Brittany's skin is boiling where their arms are pressed together, and Santana knows her own probably isn't much cooler.

She hears Brittany's breath hitch as the friction between them increases. So Santana does it again, grinding her ass back into Brittany's hips and she tugs lightly on the blond's hair. Brittany drags her lips along Santana's shoulder and up her neck, so when the blond finally moans out, it's right into Santana's ear.

Santana feels herself get even wetter at the sound of Brittany's breathy moan, and decides she'll do whatever it takes to hear Brittany moan like that for the rest of the time they're dancing together.

Although it's definitely more shameless grinding rather than dancing now.

Santana also knows she can't let this happen again.

Her self-control is fraying with every gasp and whimper Brittany makes, and it's only a matter of time before it snaps and she drags Brittany towards the nearest secluded corner. Brittany's hands have left their resting place of Santana's stomach to grip onto her hips, pulling Santana harder against her, and judging from the particularly drawn out moan she hears Brittany try and fail to stifle, the blond is just as turned on as Santana is.

She tugs a little harder than she intends on Brittany's hair on the next collision of their hips, and Brittany's mouth drops a little lower, and then her lips are pressing against Santana's hammering pulse point.

Every female has _that _spot somewhere on their body, the place that their partner just has to touch once to reduce them to a quivering mess, and Santana's, of course, just happens to be the particular spot on her neck that Brittany's lips are against.

Brittany's not really kissing her, her lips are more just resting against Santana's skin, but that doesn't stop the high pitched moan that rips its way out of Santana's mouth. Brittany smirks against her skin, and Santana is on the verge of turning round and claiming the blond's lips with her own, when the tip of what is definitely Brittany's tongue touches her skin. Her eyes fly open, and she feels her heart stop for an entirely different reason.

There's a slight gap in the crowd her and Brittany are in, and Kurt is staring at her from beside a dancing Blaine.

His gaze bores into hers as he slowly raises his eyebrow and the reality of what she's doing hits her like a freight train.

She's in the middle of some seedy club, with her employee pressed against her, and what they're doing can really no longer be classed as dancing.

And _anyone _could see them.

Sam or Tina or Unique, any one of Brittany's friends or colleagues could have seen them.

Could have seen Brittany grinding against their boss. And Kurt, one of her best friends, _has _seen them. Has seen Santana dancing with her employee.

She can't do this.

She jolts out of Brittany's arms and turns around to face the blond.

Brittany's eyes are a dark, _very_ dark blue, and her hair is tousled from Santana tugging on it. Her lips are slightly parted, and her chest is heaving as she tries to breathe normally. She is the picture of sex, and all Santana wants is her.

_But she can't_.

She opens her mouth to say something to Brittany, anything, but nothing comes out. She watches as the realization of what they were doing washes over Brittany, and the blond pales. Santana panics. She should never have done this. Despite everything in her body telling her not to, she turns her back on the blond and barges her way through the crowd, towards the bar, leaving Brittany alone on the dancefloor.

/

Santana feels the hangover hit her before she even opens her eyes. All she can see is the back of her eyelids and even that's a vision that's swimming

She drank a _lot _last night, and normally she can handle her alcohol, but last night she mixed almost everything. Champagne, tequila, vodka, jaeger bombs. For fuck's sake, she's supposed to be a 24 year old adult, not a 18 year old student.

The thought of the huge amount of alcohol she ingested last night makes her stomach roll unpleasantly, and she tries desperately to keep everything down. When she eventually musters up the energy to open her eyes, she feels like throwing up for a different reason.

She's not in her own bed.

She's not even in Quinn's, which has been known to happen when they're both drunk and tired, since Quinn's room is slightly closer to their apartment door than Santana's, and she's definitely not in her own apartment.

Almost on cue, she feels someone shift behind her in the bed, and then there's an arm sliding round her waist and what is definitely a naked female body pressing against her back. It's just then that Santana realizes the only thing covering her own naked body is a blue bed sheet.

Brittany's favorite color is blue.

Shit.

Santana has no idea if the other girl in the bed with her is Brittany or some random girl, but she doesn't know which would be worse. If she slept with Brittany, or she slept with someone that wasn't Brittany. The quiet snoring behind her means the other girl is at least asleep, so Santana gingerly lifts the pale arm off of her midsection, and slowly climbs out of the bed, and turns round.

The girl is not Brittany.

Santana actually has no idea what the girl's name even is, she doesn't recognize her at all.

She's blond – _of course she is_ – and looks about the same height as Santana. Whoever she is, Santana doesn't care. The bite marks and scratches she now feels covering her body, and the way the bed is absolutely wrecked are both clear indications that she hooked up with this girl last night. Plus the obvious fact of Santana waking up naked in her bed.

Santana doesn't know whether to be relieved or not that the girl isn't Brittany.

She is, however, relieved the girl seems to be a heavy sleeper as Santana creeps around her room, tugging her dress over her head and quickly running her hands through her hair. She doesn't know why she bothers trying to make herself look presentable, nothing screams _walk of shame_ like a tight dress and heels being carried at… Eight in the morning.

She grabs her purse and checks to make sure everything is still in there, and quietly slips out the door. This isn't the first girl she's gone home with and then left the next morning before she's awake, and this is sure as hell not the first walk of shame she's been on. It's maybe her first one on a Thursday morning, but she's used to the judgey look the cab driver shoots her as she waves her arm to flag one down, and climbs into the back seat. She tells him her address and shuts her eyes, resting her head against the cool window.

She had sex with a girl last night.

A girl that wasn't Brittany.

She has no idea how to feel about this.

She doesn't actually remember the sex, which should probably concern her, but she doesn't care. She knows dancing with Brittany turned her on like nothing else, but she didn't realize she was drunk and horny enough to go home with some random girl after dancing with Brittany.

She wonders if Brittany saw her leaving with the girl, and she wonders if Brittany was jealous.

Santana remembers the way Brittany had looked at her last night; she had _wanted_ to kiss Santana, she is absolutely certain of that. Santana has slept with plenty of girls, she knows the noises they make when they're turned on, and the way Brittany had moaned into her ear last night is a pretty good indication that the attraction isn't just one sided. She drops her head into her hands as she laughs to herself.

She's _so_ fucked.

She wants Brittany.

She likes Brittany.

She wants to fuck Brittany, and then she wants to stay and cuddle her after.

Normally the thought of _wanting _to cuddle after sex would scare the shit out of her, but it's _Brittany_.

Brittany would never hurt her.

She trusts Brittany.

Then again, Santana trusted Spencer and thought she would never hurt her, and then that bitch broke her heart in front of the entire school.

The cab pulls to a stop outside her apartment, and she pays the driver, who probably thinks she's insane, and possibly homeless, before climbing out and walking up to her door. The old lady who lives alone on the second floor is collecting her mail when Santana walks in. She raises her eyebrows at Santana's disheveled appearance but doesn't say anything.

Almost everyone living in Santana's apartment block has witnessed her infamous walks of shame in the early mornings; Santana's used to the looks.

After the elevator takes her to the fifth floor, she walks towards number 24, digging around in her bag for her keys. Unlocking the door, she walks into her apartment and slams the door behind her. She hears a groan from the occupied bedroom. Apparently Quinn's awake.

Santana debates talking to her about the whole _Brittany thing,_ but decides that can probably wait until her and Quinn are a bit more human. Besides, there isn't actually anything to tell. Sure Brittany and her danced very inappropriately, but nothing actually happened. There isn't really a Brittany Thing. So maybe she won't tell Quinn.

She debates between going through to the kitchen to get coffee, and just trying to stay awake the rest of the day, but her tired body wins out in the end and she walks into her bedroom, stripping her clothes off, and flopping down face first onto her bed. She tugs the covers over herself as she drifts off into a nap, trying not to think about soft blond hair and piercing blue eyes.


	6. Chapter Six

As always, thanks for the reviews/favourites/etc :) Makes me one happy fangirl :P

Also, I wasted an hour making a poster for this fic :) Here's the fullsize if you want to be scared by my photoshop "skills" i50. tinypic vope8x. jpg. Okay there is supposed to be a dot com after tinypic, but ff is dumb and doesn't let you link.

Again, this probably would have been up a bit sooner, but I was distracted angrily Tumblr-ing about the spoilers for the Diva episode :( But I hope this makes up for Ryan & Co fucking over our wonderful ship yet AGAIN.

Since I apparently ended a sentence of the previous chapter's author's note midway through, I shall clarify here. I know some of you weren't too impressed with Santana's actions at the end of the last chapter, but bear in mind that this is Santana we're talking about. She's not the most rational of people even when she's sober, and she never deals with her feelings in the healthiest of ways.

Also if you aren't reading Never Knew I Needed by the fabulous justsomebrittanagleek, then I suggest you rethink your fic reading choices and go and read it now :)

I hope y'all enjoy this chapter though :P

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

On September 30th, it's raining in New York City, and Santana is late for work. This is one of those things Santana doesn't give a flying fuck about while it's actually happening, but later she'll look back and realize that if she was on time to work today, _it _might not have happened.

Quinn has taken the morning off to go and visit some up-and-coming photographer in Brooklyn, and so Santana is left to travel to the studio herself. It's not raining when she leaves her apartment and begins to walk towards the subway station. Santana doesn't really feel like spending twenty minutes crammed into a tiny, overheated train while some pervy old man leers at her, so she decides to walk. It doesn't take her that much longer, and she probably needs a clear head before another day of avoiding Brittany.

It's been a week since the Hollidaze Celebration Incident, as Santana has named it, happened, and she hasn't spoken to Brittany since then. She's seen her at the studio obviously, but they've barely exchanged a hello over the past seven days.

Needless to say, it has made for an awkward week.

Quinn seems to have finally dislodged that stick that's been wedged up her ass since high school, and hasn't even noticed the odd tension between her new favorite employee and her best friend. Quinn's actually been weirdly less uptight since last Wednesday.

After Santana woke up from her much needed nap and went through to the kitchen to make coffee, she discovered Rachel eating _her _strawberries wearing nothing except her underwear and one of Quinn's old cheerleading tshirts. As Santana was in the middle of ranting at the hobbit about _keeping your stumpy paws off my berries, Berry, _Quinn came skipping, like, _actually skipping,_ into the kitchen. Santana just stared wordlessly at her as Quinn flushed and said she didn't realize Santana was home.

A drop of rain splashes right onto Santana's nose at that moment, breaking her from her thoughts. _Fucking fantastic, _Santana thinks to herself, _the one day you decide to walk and it starts pissing it down. And you're wearing a white shirt. Fabulous. _

When Santana eventually gets to the studio at 9.30am, she resembles some form of drowned animal. Or possibly a homeless person. Or the horrifying mutant offspring of both. She glares at Kitty before Midget Blond Berry can even think of opening her mouth and making a comment about Santana's soaked state.

The Latina almost laughs out loud. This must be the first time in weeks she's not soaked because of Brittany. She takes the thankfully empty elevator up to the third floor and dashes into her office before anyone can see her.

Santana dumps her bag down on her desk, looks into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, and nearly screams. Her hair has started to frizz already and her make-up is slowly making its way down her cheeks. She looks like a clown. Santana groans, and starts digging around in her bag for a brush and her mascara.

Once she eventually manages to tame her hair and restore her make-up, her shirt has thankfully dried. She didn't particularly want to stroll around the studio giving everyone a free show of her bra and the twins. She flops down in her chair, and switches her computer on. Once she's gone through her usual routine of checking her emails and updating the company's Twitter, she'll go and get some coffee and then find Tina, possibly get some more coffee, and then she can actually get some work done today.

/

She's wrong.

It's 5.45pm and despite Santana, Tina and the entire advertising design team hardly taking a break all day, they've made very little progress so far.

They're trying to come up with a marketing campaign that Holly demands is "witty, and has pretty faces on it", and so far they've come up with barely anything. The photography department has been screen testing male models most of the day, to find someone to pose alongside Sugar when the time comes for photos. Quinn's still in fucking Brooklyn doing God knows what, leaving Unique in charge, and Santana knows she'll eventually have to go and visit the photography team to approve the final pick.

Where Brittany is. _Great. _

"Okay, screw this." Santana says, standing up. "Just, go home guys, we'll pick this up tomorrow. Maybe by then, one of us will actually be able to come up with something." Santana dismisses the team sitting around the table with a wave of her hand. She slumps back down in her chair and closes her eyes as she hears everyone grumbling and moving slowly out the room. When she opens her eyes she expects to be alone, but Tina is still lingering by the door.

"What do you want Chopsticks?" Santana snaps. Okay, she's being rude, and probably racist, but she's had a long, shitty day, she's tired, probably going to get a cold from walking to work in the fucking rain, and she still has a shitload of Holly's paperwork to fill out before she can go home, bug Quinn until she either cooks or orders takeout and then go to bed.

Tina, to her credit, just rolls her eyes and ignores Santana's petulant comment. "We're friends Santana. I know we haven't known each other that long, but I consider you a friend, and I care about you." Santana raises her eyebrow. She's not sure where this is going, but if Tina is suddenly about to profess her love for her, she'd prefer her to be taller, blonder, and less Asian. "You look exhausted. I don't know if there's something going on in your personal life, and I know we aren't close enough for you to talk to me about that, but are you okay?"

Is Santana okay?

She has no idea.

Today, she was just tired and in a bad mood.

The past week, she's being trying to get a handle on the fact she has feelings for her employee. The fact she has feelings beyond friendship for anyone at all, actually.

The past two months, she's barely been able to get Brittany out of her head, and it's seriously fucking with her.

In the grand scheme of things, if Santana's being completely honest, she probably hasn't been okay since that late April afternoon when Spencer broke her heart into a million pieces. She's still not finished gluing herself back together. Santana is many things, but honest about her feelings is not one of them. So she lies. "I'm fine Tina, just tired. Been a long day." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes, but Tina's not going to see through it.

Tina looks dubious, but says goodbye to her and exits the room, leaving Santana alone with her thoughts. Most of which are of Brittany. Nothing new there.

Santana actually only half-lied to Tina, she is genuinely tired. She has no idea why, she got a good night's sleep last night, once she finally stopped thinking about Brittany long enough to drift off. Unfortunately, she can't go home yet, as she has a mountain of paperwork to get through. If she hadn't been fucking late today, she could have gotten that out the way that morning, and be on her way home now.

However, before she can inspect said paperwork, she has a model to approve.

/

Most of the photography department have left, only Unique and a few others are still there. Santana doesn't see Brittany lurking nearby as she walks over to where they're packing up.

"Santana! Just the girl I was looking for, I was just about to come see you." Is Unique permanently happy or something? Just like Brittany. Maybe it's a photographer thing. Actually, it can't be, Quinn's a moody bitch most of the time. She thrusts a folder at Santana, "This is the guy we've decided on, you just need to give us the okay."

Santana opens the folder and it's filled with various photos and headshots of a particularly smarmy looking guy. "His name's Sebastian Smythe, and he's French, and Sugar loves him." Unique exclaims excitedly. If Sugar loves him, Santana may as well just say yes now. She might be head bitch of the company, but very few people say no to Sugar Moneybags Motta and her billionaire Daddy.

Sebastian looks slightly like a meerkat, and has a douchey smirk that rivals Santana's, but she has to admit he's cute. The last guy she thought was cute was David Dawson in second grade. How ironic that Santana went on to fall in love with his sister.

"I'll have to run it by Fabray obviously, but I think we have our model. Sebastian, did you say his name was? Where's he from?" She's sure she recognizes the name Sebastian Smythe from somewhere, but she has no idea where.

"Um, he was born in Paris, and then moved to Columbus in Ohio when he was 16." Sebastian looks like he bats for Kurt's team, she'll ask him when she sees him, because she is almost positive she knows him from somewhere.

"Okay, cool. You nearly finished here?" Santana looks around the room; only she and Unique are left.

"Brittany's in the darkroom finishing something for Quinn, but apart from her yeah, we're all done. See you tomorrow Santana!" Unique waves over her shoulder as she sashays towards the door. Santana rolls her eyes, and debates going into the darkroom to remind Brittany to switch off the lights when she leaves, since somebody hadn't bothered the last few days, but she figures Brittany is smart enough to do it anyway.

Plus, she doesn't particularly want to be in a dark, enclosed space with Brittany.

Well she does, but she's not supposed to want it.

/

Santana is about halfway through the stack of papers on her desk when her pen runs out. Throwing it into the trash can beside her desk, she flings her arm out to grab another one, and manages to knock over a glass of water.

"Shit! Fuck!" Santana leaps up, and continues her swearing in Spanish as the water soaks into a pile of paper, and drips off the desk into her lap. "Jesus fucking Christ."

She groans and she dabs at the wet patch on her skirt with a tissue from the box sitting on her desk. Thankfully, she had decided to rock the monochrome look today and the water doesn't show up on her black skirt.

The paper, however, is doomed.

Delicately plucking the soggy mess off her desk and dumping it into the trash can with a squelch, Santana grumbles to herself as she tries to figure out which particular papers it is she needs to reprint. Clicking open the appropriate email, Santana hits print, and gets up to walk towards the printer room a floor down.

She would send it to her own printer, but it mysteriously vanished after she informed a guy Quinn brought home one night that she _banged Blondie once and she gave me crabs. _Quinn claims to know nothing about the missing printer, but where her printer once sat; there is now a stuffed toy crab. Santana refused to ever apologize, that guy looked like a stage five clinger. She was doing Quinn a favor. She's just a nice person, looking out for her best friend.

/

She's standing in the printer room, a tiny little box of a room next to the elevators on the second floor, putting some more paper in it when the door flies open.

Brittany is standing in the doorway.

Santana looks up at the blond, and forces out a _hey Britt _as casually as she can. Which isn't very. Her words come out a squeak more than actual words. Brittany replies with a quiet _hi Santana, _and lets the door swing shut behind her as she steps into the room, waiting for Santana to finish with the printer.

Santana doesn't think she's ever been part of a more awkward silence. She's facing the printer, with her back to Brittany, willing it to hurry the fuck up so she can get out of the weird tension filling the room. She can hear Brittany breathing behind her, but not like in the creepy heavy way, just Brittany taking light inhales and exhales. She remembers how it felt to have Brittany exhale a moan across her bare, overheated skin last Wednesday and a shiver runs down her spine. She hopes Brittany didn't notice.

"Hurry up." She mumbles, glaring at the printer. It can _process _a hell of a lot quicker than this. Santana dropped a lot of fucking money on this thing; the least it could do is actually work quickly.

"Are you in a rush?" Brittany asks from behind her. Santana slowly turns round, slightly stunned. That's the closest she's ever heard Brittany come to snapping at anyone. The blond's cheeks have a faint pink tinge to them. "Sorry. That was rude. Long day, I got caught in the rain walking here and then there was a huge line at Starbucks, so it wasn't the best start to my day."

Santana finally lets a smile cross her face as some of the tension eases in the room. "You got caught in it too? I swear to God, New York has some of the most fucking bipolar weather I've ever encountered."

Brittany laughs. "Yeah, Sam stayed at a friend's last night; he normally wakes me up in the morning, and obviously he didn't, so I woke up late and left later than usual and got soaked walking here."

Santana's mind takes up its residence in the gutter again, and just like that the tension spikes up again.

Santana spins round to face the printer again, trying not to think about Brittany being wet from something other than the rain. If the way Brittany's breath hitches behind her is any indication, she thinks Brittany realizes how Santana took her words. The blond probably thinks Santana is a dirty minded perv, which okay, is pretty much true, but Santana doesn't want Brittany to think of her as some kind of sex-crazed animal. Which is only _sometimes _true.

"Santana…" Brittany nervously starts. "Should we talk about it?"

Santana freezes. Brittany's done it. Brittany's acknowledged what happened between them last week, and has said so out loud. They're the only two in the room, in the whole studio, so it's not like Santana can pretend not to hear her. And the printer is only halfway through printing, so it's not like Santana can run away, like the coward she is.

She swallows. "There's nothing to talk about Brittany."

They're just going to forget about. Brittany doesn't get a choice in this matter, they _have _to forget about it.

It'll probably be awkward for ages, but they'll get over it. Hell, if she and Puck can be best friends, or lesbros as he so charmingly calls them, after they had sex hundreds of times freshman and sophomore year, then she's sure she and Brittany can get over twenty minutes of dancing.

Or dry humping on a dancefloor. Whichever.

"But-"

"No, Brittany, we don't have to talk about it, as far as I'm concerned we were both drunk, and things just got a little out of control. It's not gonna happen again, so just forget about it."

Santana doesn't need to be facing Brittany to know the blond will be pouting. Her bottom lip will be jutted out slightly, and her perfect blue eyes will be slightly downcast as she crosses her arms tightly across her chest. Santana rolls her eyes, she doesn't even know shit like that about Quinn, her best friend and roommate for fucking years, but of course, she knows exactly what Brittany looks like when she pouts. Said pout is usually aimed at Santana anyway, so she has a legitimate reason to know. Whatever.

There's another few tense seconds of silence, before Brittany whispers something behind her, so quietly Santana isn't sure if she actually imagined it.

"What if I can't?"

Santana's heart skips a beat – _fucking hell, _she mocks herself – and then starts pounding. Brittany can't have meant, she doesn't want… What the fuck? Taking a deep breath, Santana ignores the printer, which is fucking _processing _again, and turns around to face Brittany. The blond has shifted slightly so she's standing almost directly behind Santana. There's only about a foot of space between them, Brittany leaning against the wall, and Santana against the printer.

"What did you just say?" Santana asks slowly, thinking she better get Brittany to repeat herself, so she knows she's not going crazy. At least not yet.

Brittany is staring at the wall to the left of Santana, but closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before looking Santana dead in the eye. "I said, what if I can't forget it?"

Good news, Santana isn't going crazy. Bad news, Brittany can't stop thinking about their little rendezvous on the dancefloor either. Or technically that's good news, since the attraction evidently isn't one sided. Unless Brittany can't stop thinking about how her boss basically groped her in public and has been wondering how to press sexual harassment charges all week. In which case, definitely bad news.

The printer beeps loudly behind her, announcing that it's finally fucking done, but Santana ignores it. "What do you mean you can't forget it?" Apparently being within a foot of Brittany reduces Santana's brain function to that of a coma patient.

The corners of Brittany's lips curve up slightly in a soft smile, and her gaze continues to bore into Santana's. "I mean, Santana, that I can't stop thinking about you. In fact, I've barely been able to get you out of my head since we met."

Santana thinks this may be what a heart attack feels like. Brittany pulls her body from off the wall, shuffling forward until there is hardly any space between them. "It doesn't matter what I do, where I am, who I'm with, you're somehow always _there_ in my mind. It's been driving me crazy, I'm just so… _Hooked_, on you Santana. On everything about you. I thought it would pass, that it was just a silly crush, but that Monday night when you stayed with me even though you didn't have to…" Brittany trails off, and tilts her head to the side, smiling softly at Santana with the most affectionate look on her face. "You're so amazing Santana. I don't think you realize how much."

She's right; Santana doesn't think she's amazing.

Sure, she is at certain things, she's amazing in bed, and she's a fucking good designer, but she knows that's not what Brittany means. Brittany thinks she's an amazing _person, _which could not be farther from the truth.

Santana's not a good person.

She's mean, she's rude, she's one hell of a judgmental bitch, and she's deliberately hurt people, both emotionally and physically, in the past, just for her own enjoyment. She couldn't give two shits about most people's feelings, and puts herself before anybody else. In high school, all boys wanted her for was for an easy lay. Girls only wanted to be friends with her for her popularity. Quinn, Rachel, Kurt and Puck are the only people who have ever stood by her, and she's offended or pissed off all four of them at some point.

Santana shakes her head, "No Brittany, I- I'm not a good person."

"You are Santana. You just don't let anybody see it. You try so hard to shut everyone out, nobody sees what an amazing person you are."

Santana snorts. "So how come you're so convinced I'm a good person if I don't let anyone in?"

Brittany smiles, and slowly brings her hand up to trace along Santana's cheek. "Because you let me in that Monday night."

Santana gulps. She did let Brittany in. She felt her walls crumble down somewhere between Brittany talking about her sister, and the fifteen minute marathon of quoting Dr. Seuss. She let Brittany in past her guards, past her walls, past all her insecurities, and now it's like Brittany's in her veins. And she cannot get her out.

"You let me in," Brittany continues. "And I saw the real you. The real Santana is amazing. And funny, and sweet, and beautiful." Santana's breath hitches. "I also saw the real you last week, when we were dancing."

Santana lets out a nervous giggle. A fucking _giggle. _"Britt I don't think we can really class that as dancing."

Brittany smirks, and Santana feels her body start heating up in that familiar way. "No probably not. But it did answer my question."

"What question?"

"If you want me as much as I want you." Well Brittany certainly doesn't beat around the bush. The space between them decreases even more as Brittany steps closer to Santana, and slowly places her hands on the Latina's hips. "Because I wanted you Santana. I wanted to kiss you so fucking much." It's the first time Santana has heard Brittany swear, and she's completely unprepared for the surge of arousal that shoots through her. The blond leans forward, and Santana is mildly concerned that her heart might actually burst through her chest with how hard it's beating, and Brittany rests their foreheads together.

Santana desperately tries to remember how to form words. "Britt, we- we can't, we shouldn't…"

Brittany's eyes shut and she exhales, and Santana feels the blond's breath hit her lips. She tries not to whimper. "I know we shouldn't, Santana, but…"

"But what, Britt?" Santana's eyes drop to Brittany's lips as the blond bites down on her bottom lip. They look so _soft_.

"I can't help it. I want you_, _Santana." Brittany's voice is barely above a whisper at this point.

Santana feels wetness start to pool between her legs, and she clamps her lips together to stop the moan from escaping. She's so close to closing the tiny gap between them and finally kissing the lips she's been dreaming about for weeks, when the fucking printer beeps obnoxiously loudly behind her, and breaks her out of her Brittany-haze. She jerks back, banging her elbow on the printer, but she doesn't care.

She was about to kiss her employee.

Who would have kissed her back.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh _shit._

"Brittany, I- I'm sorry, we, we can't…" She stutters as she turns around and picks up the pile of paper sitting in the out tray. She brushes past Brittany and is about to push the door open when she feels a hand curl around her upper arm. She's not wearing her blazer, so Brittany's fingers are pressing against her bare skin. Brittany turns her around and pushes her back until she's pressed against the door, and Brittany is standing in front of her, arms either side of Santana's head. The papers drop to the floor in a flurry, forgotten as Santana gaze flits between Brittany's piercing blue eyes and her lips.

"Tell me you don't want me." Brittany whispers hoarsely, her face mere centimeters from Santana's. "Tell me you don't want me, and I'll stop. I'll leave you alone, and we can go back to just working together, completely professionally."

"I-" Santana whimpers. She doesn't know why she bothers; she won't be able to lie to Brittany. She wants the blond so fucking much. Santana's soaked underwear can _happily_ attest to that fact.

"Tell me you don't want me, Santana." Brittany whispers again, brushing their noses together. Santana tastes the blond's breath on her tongue, and as Brittany says her name in that low voice, her self-control snaps.

Santana's hands slide into the blond's hair, tangling in it and tugging her face forward until Santana is pressing her lips against Brittany's. The blond's hands instantly drop to Santana's waist, pulling her closer until there's no space between them, Brittany pressing Santana back against the door. Brittany whimpers into the kiss, her lips parting as she sucks the Latina's bottom lip between hers. The vibrations shoot through Santana like lightning, and she groans as she presses herself even closer to Brittany.

Brittany pushes her tongue past Santana's parted lips, and Santana thinks she may have died or gone to heaven. Or some other stupid ridiculous cliché like that. She lets go of Brittany's hair and runs her hands down the blond's body towards her hips, where she circles her arms around Brittany's waist, pulling them completely against one another. Brittany moans into her mouth, and tilts her head slightly, kissing Santana harder and deeper.

Santana has always been a fan of foreplay with the hundreds of girls she's slept with. She likes kissing; she's fucking _good_ at kissing.

Even if the girl wasn't the best kisser, Santana always worked them up until they were soaked, begging to be fucked. The sex was always better that way. However, despite the many girls Santana has kissed, Brittany blows them all completely out of the water. She's not even sure if that comparison even makes sense, but she can't think straight with Brittany's body pressed against hers, Brittany's tongue brushing against her own, Brittany's hands sliding into her hair, tugging Santana's head slightly so she can get a better angle to delve her tongue into Santana's mouth.

Santana's pretty sure she could probably come from just kissing Brittany.

The throb between her legs and Brittany's tongue against her own are pretty much all Santana can focus on right now. She feels high, or drunk, or possibly like she's about to pass out. Nobody has ever made her feel this way before, just from _kissing _her_. _Santana feels herself get even wetter when Brittany sucks on her tongue, and she pants into the blond's mouth.

Brittany moans when Santana pushes her own tongue past Brittany's lips. She didn't think anyone could ever taste so good, but she's slowly realizing Brittany is better than anything she could have dreamed of, as ridiculous as that sounds. Brittany's mouth is so fucking hot, and so fucking wet, Santana doesn't think she'll ever be able to get enough. Her hands run over Brittany's back, gripping her shirt in her hands, wanting to touch her everywhere all at once.

Brittany is panting into her mouth as Santana traces the contours of the blond's mouth with her tongue, her heartbeat thudding inside her chest, between her legs, all over her body. The arousal pounding through her veins is slowly fraying at Santana's moral fiber, and if she doesn't slow this down, they're going to have a _very_ scandalized printer.

Santana slows the kiss down until it's just lips against lips, occasionally sliding her tongue along Brittany's bottom lip, because the blond moans in the most amazing way when she does it, and Santana is only human. She sucks on Brittany's lips one last time before pulling back slightly, disconnecting their lips.

Brittany whimpers at the loss of contact, and Santana opens her eyes to look at her. She's not prepared for how utterly breathtaking post-kissing Brittany is.

Like, Brittany is fucking gorgeous anyway, but like _this, _her swollen lips a dark pink from being pressed against Santana's, her blond hair disheveled from Santana running her hands through it, her chest rising up and down quicker than normal as she tries to catch her breath… Brittany is so fucking stunning, and Santana wants to go back in time and smack herself over the head for ever thinking Brittany was just another hot girl.

"You're so fucking beautiful Britt." Santana breathes out unconsciously, a dopey smile spreading across her face at the adorable blush that covers Brittany's cheeks. Santana is pretty sure she should feel guilty, or like she's done something wrong, but she can't. She honestly can't remember the last time she felt this happy, the last time kissing someone felt this _right_.

Santana will happily tell Brittany that every day for the rest of her life if it means she's the one who gets to make Brittany's face light up like that.

"We can't do this, can we Santana?" Brittany says quietly, still sounding quite breathless. She stares into Santana's eyes, and Santana tries to ignore the smug feeling that shoots through her when she realizes quite how dark Brittany's eyes have gotten. _I did that, _she gloats internally. Sure, Brittany might be different to any other girl Santana's met, but she's still _Santana. _

"No Britt. It's wrong, it's unprofessional, you're my employee and I'm your boss. We really shouldn't be doing this." Santana murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Brittany again. Brittany sighs against her lips, kissing her back gently. Santana's preferred style of kissing is hard, fast, with a lot of tongues, none of this sappy slow gentle kissing crap, but since this is _Brittany_, of course, she'd happily kiss her this slowly for the rest of the night. Their bodies are still pressed together, Santana's hands on Brittany's hips, and Brittany's resting on Santana's neck. Brittany stops the kiss this time, leaning back far enough to rest her forehead against Santana's.

"This can't happen again. We can't do this."

Despite how much Santana wants it to happen again, she knows Brittany's right. She can't just go around kissing her employees. Even if said employee wants to kiss her back. She repeats her reasons back to herself in her head. _Inappropriate, unprofessional, unethical…_It's not really working anymore, and the longer she spends in Brittany's presence, the more she wants to kiss her again.

_Again. _The word rings through Santana's head. Now whenever Santana daydreams about kissing the blond, she can think how much she wants to kiss her_ again._ Because it's already happened. Brittany and her have kissed. Oh god.

Brittany continues, looking slightly dejected. "Maybe it was better we just like, got it out of our systems? I mean, at least now there might not be that weird tension between us." Brittany takes a full step back, away from the door, away from Santana.

Santana's body cools down slightly, without the heat of the blond's against it. Santana nods, not trusting herself to speak. She bends down and picks up the papers she dropped on the floor. Fuck that, she needs to get home and hop into a _very_ cold shower. She stands up and looks over at Brittany again. She's facing the printer now, gripping the edge of it tightly. She turns her head to face Santana, and a smile stretches over her lips. "Goodnight Santana." It doesn't reach her eyes.

"Night Britt." There's a slightly tense silence after that, so Santana ignores everything in her screaming to just lock the door and stay with Brittany, she pushes the door open and heads back up to her office.

/

Santana chooses to walk back to her apartment. It's 9pm in New York, so it's probably a pretty bad idea, but she needs the fresh air. She can still taste Brittany on her lips, smell her on her skin. She closes her eyes and she sees Brittany's face, a mix of the lust-filled gaze she shot Santana after they stopped kissing the first time, and the sad smile she'd aimed her way after the blond had said goodnight.

She passes a flyer thrown on the sidewalk for some new bar that's just opened a few blocks away. Santana is tempted to go and find some nameless girl to take care of the throbbing still prevalent between her legs, but she knows she won't be able to do it. Her heart isn't in it, in random hookups that she runs from the next morning, not anymore.

Without Brittany's presence invading her every sense now, she has time to think clearly. The blond had said they couldn't. Santana had said it too, but she had meant she couldn't start sleeping with her employee for ethical and professional reasons.

What if Brittany had meant she couldn't do it because she wasn't into Santana? Normally Santana assumed if a girl wasn't into her she was either like, a negative number on the Kinsey scale, or just not drunk enough yet.

She finally has clarification that Brittany's bisexual, after overhearing a _delightful _conversation on Tuesday between her and Unique about how she once saw her ex-boyfriend and ex-girlfriend on a date together. So it's not like Brittany's not into _that. _Cause she is. Clearly.

No, she can't think like this, Brittany wouldn't have kissed her like that if she wasn't into Santana. Santana knows how girls kiss; she knows when they're into it, when they're not – _which is rarely_ – and when she should get to the ripping off of the clothes part. Then again, Brittany isn't like anyone she's ever met.

Ugh. This is why Santana doesn't do feelings. She hates the _do you think they like me, do you think they don't _crap_, _which, trust her, she has _plenty_ experience with, having known Rachel for so long. She hates the not knowing. She hates being so fucking _confused, _being so in the dark about everything. About her own feelings, about Brittany's feelings.

Fuck. Maybe it's time to talk to Quinn.

/

On October 1st, Blaine cheats on Kurt. On October 2nd, he tells Kurt, and Kurt breaks up with him. Which is how Santana finds herself on a Friday evening after work, sitting in some fancy bar with a very large margarita in front of her, listening to Kurt bitch about his now ex-boyfriend.

"I'd actually met the guy, Santana, I actually knew the bastard he slept with. I thought they were just friends, Blaine told me they were just friends…" Kurt trails off, his voice shaking at the end of his sentence. Santana isn't that great at the _there, there_ stuff, in fact she's pretty fucking awful, but she knows Kurt didn't call her because he wanted to sob into someone's Chanel covered shoulder, he wanted someone to bitch with. Which Santana is _excellent_ at, if she does say so herself.

"Look, Triangle Brows is an idiot, a short, over-gelled, idiot who doesn't wear socks. If he can't see what a fabulous, flamboyant specimen of a man you are, he doesn't deserve you anyway." She's not entirely sure what Kurt ever saw in Blaine, but she's not about to go _completely_ in on the hobbit, since Kurt did actually love him for most of the time they were together. For some reason.

She takes a sip of her ridiculously priced drink – _because, Santana, if I'm going to cry into a cocktail while I listen to you extol the virtues of being a single gay in New York City, it better be an expensive one_ – and turns back to Kurt. He's glaring moodily into his Appletini, twirling the umbrella around unconsciously.

She takes a breath, nervously mulling the idea over in her head. She doesn't want to piss Kurt off, more than he already is, and she doesn't want him pissed off at her, because a pissed off Kurt Hummel can either result in an argument where they shriek the most offensive things they can think of at each other, or a frosty silence that makes the Ice Age seem like a tropical summer. Plus Kurt saw her grinding all up on Brittany, and she doesn't want him blabbing to Quinn.

"You know what I would do?" She decides to just go for it.

"Santana, you know I love you, but I'm not sure I can comfortably take relationship advice from you."

"Hey! I can be helpful!"

Kurt raises his eyebrow at her, trying to keep his haughty expression on instead of smirking. "Satan when was the last time you had a date that didn't end up with you on your back?"

"Excuse me, I'm a top thank you very much. Especially if strap-ons are involved, like do you have any idea how good it can feel when-"

Kurt cuts her off. "Santana, I asked you of all people to meet me because I'm at the angry stage of a break up and I needed you to be my bitchy best friend for me. That does not mean telling me the wonders of your Sapphic lifestyle, as all that does is confirm that fact that I am very, very gay."

"Weird, talking about two girls getting it on totally confirms I'm gay as well." Santana smirks as she takes a sip of her drink, glad that Kurt actually smiles at that.

"Well, since you didn't ask, I'll tell you anyway. I would go out, find some hot guy that looks nothing like Baby Burt Reynolds, and rebound with him."

Kurt gives her a withering look. "Sleeping with another guy is going to help how, exactly?"

"Because, Smurfette, if you get through it without crying, or imagining it's Blaine, then you know you have a shot at moving on."

Kurt stares at her. "That's the worst advice I've ever heard. I'm so glad you became a designer and not a therapist, because if you were mine I'd probably throw myself in front of a train."

Santana laughs, then looks around her to check that no one she knows will witness this next moment. She shuffles closer to Kurt on the barstool, and slides the fingers of her right hand through his left.

"Look Kurt, I know I'm shit at the loving, sappy garbage, but you know I love you. And if Blaine had the audacity to cheat on you, all it proves is that he's not your Mr. Right. Let him go, move on, and you can find a better man, one that'll treat you like the princess you are." She couldn't say all that without insulting him at least once, she was already feeling weird enough about being this nice.

Kurt smiles at her. "I know the last time I implied you had feelings and emotions like a normal human being, you changed every contact in my phone to _some guy I fucked _and set their ringtones as porn star moans, but you're pretty amazing, Santana." It doesn't sound quite as nice coming from Kurt's lips as it does from Brittany's, as nicely moisturized as they are, but Santana chooses to ignore that. Kurt downs the rest of his cocktail and steps elegantly off his barstool, and extends his hand to Santana. "Now let's go get drunk, Miss. Lopez."

/

Santana has drunk enough to be tipsy, but not enough to have a hangover the next morning. She has to work in the morning after all, even if Kurt doesn't.

They're at Rainbow, in the bar area waiting for the club to open, pissing off the bartender by ordering the fanciest cocktails on the menu. Kurt turns around to survey the dancefloor while Santana asks for a Long Hard Screw Against The Wall, and a Screaming Orgasm. She throws a wink at the terrified looking bartender as she scurries off to make them.

"You're terrible Santana." Kurt laughs at her as she turns around as well.

"I think she must be new, I've banged most of the female bartenders here but I've never seen her before."

"Why don't you then? Continue your reign as New York's self-proclaimed Lesbian Queen?"

Santana feels something weird in her stomach, and her mind immediately jumps to Brittany. She'd managed to avoid thinking about the blond for most of today, her mind occupied with work and then with Kurt, but now she's back in her usual place inside Santana's mind.

"She might be straight."

"When has that _ever _stopped you before?" Kurt looks at her weirdly when she doesn't say anything, but thankfully doesn't get the chance to press it any further when the bartender appears with their drinks, stuttering as she tells Santana the price. Kurt sniggers and Santana smiles lecherously at the bartender for good measure. "Oh definitely on Team Gay." He laughs as he drags Santana over to an empty table.

/

One Sex On The Beach, one Fucked On The Floor, and two Blow Jobs later, Santana and Kurt are dancing in the middle of the club, surrounded by people. Kurt is staring at the entrance, pointing out every hot guy that comes in, like Santana can tell the difference. One particular _oooh, he's cute_ that Kurt just sounds so ridiculous saying, she looks up and sees Sebastian sauntering in the door.

"He's French, and a model." She yells into Kurt's ear. He whips round to look at her questioningly, and she elaborates. "He's our male model for the Hollidaze project."

"Do you think he's gay?" Kurt muses, as loudly as one can _muse_ over the loud music.

Santana shrugs. "You always claim your gaydar's better than mine, you go and find out. His name's Sebastian."

Kurt looks at her again. "Sebastian as in Sebastian _Smythe?_"

Santana nods. She knew Kurt would know him. "Do all you queens just know each other or something?" She shouts.

Kurt glares at her. "Do you remember senior year of high school when we beat Dalton Academy at Regionals?" Santana nods. "He was their lead singer. He tried to ask me on a date then. I may have shot him down quite nastily."

"You, nasty? Never?" Santana laughs at Kurt's offended face. "At least you know he swings your way."

Kurt glares at her again, and he downs his drink. "Well I am suitably drunk already, so I am going to go and find a good looking boy, possibly Sebastian, and go home with him! Good luck on your own conquest, Hopez." He twirls dramatically around and walks over to the bar, slightly unsteadily, leaving Santana alone in the middle of the dancefloor.

Finishing her own drink, Santana realizes she needs to pee. Shoving her way past a butch lesbian couple aggressively making out beside the bar, she walks into the bathroom and into a cubicle.

/

She's redoing her mascara in front of the mirror when the door opens and a giggling blond comes tumbling in.

"Shut up Steven, I never said that." The familiar voice says to _Steven _who's thankfully not just strolling into the female bathroom after her. Restroom signs are kind of just a formality in gay bars, as Santana found out the first time she went to one. Pretty much just a free for all in them, really.

"Santana?" Santana groans internally, thinking for some reason Brittany might not see her. You know, the only other person in the bathroom.

"Hey Britt." She chooses to just keep doing her make-up, smiling briefly at the blond in the mirror. She wonders how drunk Brittany is, because if she's anything like Santana, alcohol is one hell of an aphrodisiac. Brittany does have all her clothes on, Santana notices, so maybe she's not too far gone.

Brittany disappears into a cubicle, and when she reappears, Santana has moved on to her lip gloss. She's running the brush along her bottom lip when Brittany slides up next to her. She washes her hands, and dries them, but doesn't make any move to leave Santana's side after that.

Santana tries to ignore the way she knows Brittany's gaze is locked on her lips, but after the daily torture the blond puts her through by wearing insanely short skirts or shorts, she figures a little revenge might be in order. She deliberately slows down her application of the lip gloss, exaggerating her movements, and smacking her lips together when she's done, trying to make it as pornographic as possible. She's not sure if it worked, or if she just looked like a moron, but when she turns round to ask Brittany how it looks, the heated look the blond is giving her makes all the moisture leave her mouth, and flood to a certain area down south.

"Unless you tell me not to, right now, I'm going to kiss you again." Brittany gives her about five seconds of warning before she pounces on Santana.

Santana is taken slightly by surprise as Brittany backs her up against the sinks, immediately sliding her tongue into Santana's mouth and sighing against her.

Once it finally catches up to her that Brittany is kissing her, she moans and winds her arms around Brittany's back, feeling the heat from the blond flood through her own body as they press together. Santana lets her hands drift dangerously close to Brittany's ass, then slides them up, letting her fingers brush over the patch of skin between Brittany's top and skin tight jeans. As usual, all Santana can focus on is how good Brittany feels pressed up against her, and how good her lips feel sliding against Santana's.

She's not entirely sure how she thought she could stay away from Brittany, especially after they'd kissed and there's confirmation the attraction isn't just one sided, and there is high probability tomorrow is going to be awkward as hell at the studio, but Santana doesn't give a flying fuck. She wants Brittany, and Brittany definitely wants her back.

Their last kiss had been, well, not _soft _as such, but it was certainly sweet and gentle compared to this. Brittany's teeth sink down on Santana's bottom lip, and she moans out as Brittany slides her hands into her hair, her nails digging into Santana's scalp, tugging her head back to slide her lips along Santana's jaw, and then down her neck. She presses open-mouthed kisses down Santana's neck like she's been doing it for years, biting down gently on the hammering pulse point, and then sliding her tongue over it.

"_Fuck_, Britt." Santana moans out loudly, not giving a shit how desperate she sounds anymore. She can feel the wet heat throbbing between her legs and barely manages to gasp out _stall, now_ before Brittany is sliding her hands across Santana's ass and lifting her up. Santana groans into Brittany's mouth, wrapping her legs around the blond's waist because holy _fuck _that was possibly the hottest thing she's ever felt. Brittany carries her like she weighs nothing into the nearest stall, kicking the door open and then closed with her foot, and she presses Santana against the back of the door.

Santana can't think, she can't speak, she can't see, all she can feel is Brittany. Brittany, fucking everywhere, invading every single one of her senses. She's so fucking turned on right now that Brittany could probably do whatever she wanted to Santana, and she wouldn't be stopped. Brittany leaves one hand gripping her ass as the other slides up into Santana's hair, aiming their lips back together. Santana whimpers desperately as Brittany presses harder against her to hold her up, and as Santana is wearing a skirt, it promptly rides up and her soaked underwear press against the flat plane of Brittany's stomach. Santana has to resist the urge to start rubbing herself frantically against Brittany, because holy hell she has _abs_, Santana can feel them even through Brittany's top.

Brittany abandons Santana's lips in favor of attacking her throat again, and Santana groans, letting her head fall back against the cubicle door with a thud. Threading her fingers into Brittany's hair, she holds her head there, the blond attaching her lips to Santana's neck and sucking hard. She's certain, if she gave Brittany a few more minutes of this, that she would be end up coming just with one roll of her hips against Brittany's rock hard abs. Brittany's lips slide across her collarbone, and just begin to brush against the top of her boobs, and she's literally about two seconds away from begging Brittany to just fuck her, when the bathroom door swings open, and a female voice calls out Brittany's name.

"Britt? You in here?" Santana freezes, because hearing Tina Cohen-Chang's voice is pretty much the last thing she wanted to hear while she was this close to having sex with Brittany.

Brittany freezes, and Santana feels her swallow before clearing her throat to anwer Tina.

"Yeah, I'm fine Tina. I'll be out soon." Clearing her throat did her absolutely no good, because her voice is still the hoarse tone that screams _I'm turned on. _Santana tries not to giggle at Brittany's slightly mortified expression.

"Okay, Mike doesn't feel well so I think we're gonna leave." Brittany pouts and lets her forehead fall forward to rest against Santana's shoulder.

"Yeah okay, I'll meet you guys outside." Thankfully Tina fucks off, and Brittany loosens her grip on Santana, letting her down, giggling cutely at the state Santana is sure she's in. If she looks anything like Brittany, she's probably rocking the _just fucked _look, even though they didn't even reach second base.

Santana can't help but smile back at the blond, because despite how far passed the line that might have been, there's no awkward tension like in the printer room. Santana breaks their eye contact to sort out her skirt where it rode up, and when she looks back at Brittany the blond is smirking at her.

"Sorry."

"No you're not." Santana shoots back, grinning goofily at her.

Brittany smiles, and ducks her head, and Santana is so glad it's not awkward. The last time they kissed, Santana was freaking out five minutes after, but this time, she'd happily stay in this comfortable silence with Brittany for as long as she could. Maybe someplace else, rather than Rainbow's restroom, but you get the point.

"I have to go." Nothing in Brittany's tone of voice points to her actually wanting to leave. She looks at Santana with her soft smile on her face. A smile that Santana has only ever seen aimed at _her. _One side of Brittany's mouth is curved up slightly higher than the other, her head tilts to the side and it's full of affection. "I'll see you tomorrow Santana."

Santana opens the stall door, and lets Brittany through first – _what a gentlewoman_ – but before Brittany can walk out the door, she stops her.

"Britt, wait." Brittany turns round, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion in the most adorable way.

Santana pulls Brittany towards her and kisses her softly again. Brittany smiles against her mouth, and her hands reach up to tangle in Santana's hair, their lips brushing together. Santana slides her tongue past Brittany's lips just to hear the whimper the blond makes, and then sucks gently on her bottom lip. This is possibly the most affectionate kiss she's been a part of since high school, but she doesn't care.

She's starting not to care that Brittany is her employee anymore as well. Something that feels this good, this _right_, can't be wrong, can it? At least, Santana thinks that's how the cliché goes.

Santana slowly breaks the kiss, until they're just pressing their lips together gently, and Santana feels like melting. "I'll see you tomorrow Britt." She whispers against Brittany's lips. Brittany smiles, and steals one last kiss from Santana before parting from her completely and backing towards the door. She doesn't take her eyes off Santana the whole way.

Santana desperately wants to follow her, to stay longer with Brittany, to go home with her. She wouldn't even mind if they didn't have sex; she just wants to be with Brittany. Kissing her, cuddling her, hell even just talking to her, Santana doesn't care.

Brittany finally turns around and skips out the bathroom, with one last shyly whispered _goodnight, _leaving Santana on her own. She glances at herself in the mirror and nearly does a double take. The tiredness, the loneliness she'd seen in herself for the past few months, or maybe years, is gone. She looks… _Happy._

Santana didn't think it was possible, but she actually looks happy. Her skin is glowing and her eyes are brighter. Santana smiles at herself in the mirror, shocked at the change she sees from the past few months, before realizing she's grinning at herself in a fucking mirror, on her own in a nightclub bathroom.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she digs out her phone to text Kurt that she's leaving, but she finds she already has a text from him. Unlocking her phone, she tries to not burst out laughing at the text displayed on the screen.

_Santanaaa babyyy, Im leaving with Seabstian soryy you will hav to find your onw way homeeee. I love youuu! Xxxxx_

Her phone buzzes in her palm, and a text from Quinn pops up, asking where she is, and Santana's blood runs cold. If she can see the change in herself, then Quinn sure as hell will. And she can't have Quinn finding out about her and Brittany. Not that there's really a _her and Brittany,_ but she can't tell Quinn that they've made out a few times.

She'd wanted to tell Quinn about the first kiss when she got home on Wednesday, but fucking Berry was there, singing along to whatever shitty musical she was forcing on Quinn, so Santana just barricaded herself in her room, trying to block out Rachel belting out Anything Goes for half the evening. Complete with the tap dancing routine.

She can feel the panic slowly beginning to set in. Fuck. She's so fucking confused. She thought maybe kissing Brittany once, or like, five times, would help her get over her ridiculous feelings for Brittany, but fuck, she hasn't. She doesn't know why she's suddenly fallen so hard for Brittany, after not letting herself feel anything for anyone since high school, why she suddenly likes the blond so much. All she knows is that it is definitely not out of her system yet. _Shit._


	7. Chapter Seven

As per, cheers for all the reviews and favourites etc :)

This chapter took me bloody ages to write, and I'm still not entirely happy with the way it turned out...But I hope you all like it just the same :)

I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked Diva, although the weird Tina/Blaine shit was possibly one of the creepiest things the show has ever done.

Brittana and Faberry might be my Glee otps, but I am never going to turn down a bit of Quinntana, so hopefully tonight's episode won't be too horrific lol.

Anyway, I'll shut up now, and feel free to leave me a review about how craptastic this chapter is on a scale of one to ten :)

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Santana Jennifer Lopez, wake up you lazy excuse for a human being."

Of the many ways Santana would like to be woken up at 7am on a Saturday morning, Quinn Fabray hammering on her bedroom door and screeching at her is somewhere near the bottom of the list. Below Puck kicking down her door and strolling in serenading her with Sweet Caroline, but above having to listen to Kurt and Rachel squabble about who sang Defying Gravity better in sophomore year. Both of which have actually happened. The diva-off was fucking years ago, but apparently The Gayberry Twins can't let it go.

"Santana, seriously, you need to get up or you'll be late for work. Get out or I'll send Rachel in there."

Why the fuck is Berry suddenly constantly in their apartment? Santana gets enough of the irritatingly loud dwarf the few times a week she sees her, she doesn't need her setting up hobbit camp in their living room.

Then Santana remembers last night. Kurt fucking off with Sebastian, Brittany pouncing on her in the club toilets, her subsequent freaking out. _Classy_, Santana groans to herself, burying her head deeper into her pillow. Actually, if Kurt brought Sebastian back to the apartment he shares with Rachel, that would probably explain the annoying singing she can now hear drifting through from the kitchen. Kurt's not exactly quiet, as Santana unfortunately discovered by walking in on him and Blaine last year, so she doesn't blame Rachel for not wanting to be kept awake by _that_.

She opens her eyes and rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She kissed Brittany last night. Again. Well, technically Brittany kissed her, but it's not like she gave Santana much of a choice. She shuts her eyes again, for once just letting herself remember the way Brittany's body felt against hers, how Brittany's lips tasted, how Brittany sounded whimpering into her ear. She can almost still feel Brittany's lips on her neck, or her chest pressing against Santana's. When the telltale tugs of arousal begin in her stomach, she opens her eyes again, steeling herself.

This has to stop. For good.

She is going to find Brittany at some point today and tell her it was a mistake.

Developing feelings for her employee she can handle. Kissing said employee not once, but two times, she can't. If anyone finds out, she would be the one to take the blame, but she would also have to fire Brittany, and she won't be able to deal with the guilt of basically ruining Brittany's career. She'd ruin the reputation of Lopez-Fabray Design as well, which she can do to herself, but not to Brittany.

She also wouldn't be able to deal with the disappointment she'd get from Quinn. As much as they bicker and fight and insult each other, Quinn is Santana's best friend, and the closest thing she has to a real family.

If it wasn't for Quinn, Santana would probably still be stuck in Lima, back in Ohio, drinking herself to an early grave, pushing away anyone that tried to come too close. Quinn was the one to pick the pieces of her up off the floor after Spencer broke her heart, and gave her the motivation to start putting herself back together.

She can't get involved with Brittany. No matter how much she might want to.

Santana slowly drags herself out of bed, thankful her headache isn't too bad. Or at least, isn't too bad until Rachel's badgering Quinn pays off, and the two of them burst into a _loud_ rendition of I Feel Pretty/Unpretty, the mash-up that won their Glee Club Regionals in Junior Year. She staggers into the kitchen debating if she should just stab them with a knife, or get creative with the electric whisk.

"Good morning Santana!" Rachel trills, while flipping a pancake in the pan she's holding.

"Do you live here now or something?" Santana gives her a withering glare, ignoring her greeting, before making a beeline for the coffee machine.

"Santana, I apologize for my frequent visits, but unfortunately Finn is being an ass, and Quinn is being remarkably helpful and supportive." How Rachel can string together that many words this early in the morning, Santana will never know.

"The only kind of help you need is the professional kind, Berry."

Quinn snorts in a particularly unladylike manner, and Rachel just looks offended, before flouncing off, announcing she's going to have a shower.

"Seriously Quinn, has she like moved in or something? She's using our fucking hot water, eating my fucking food, sleeping in your fucking clothes."

Santana can feel Quinn's eye roll from across the kitchen. "No Santana, she has not _moved in_. Finn's just being his usual idiotic self, and she didn't want to talk to Kurt about it considering the whole Blaine thing. So I said she could come over as often as she wanted, if she needed to talk or something. Anyway, where were you last night?"

Santana takes a huge gulp of her coffee as soon as it's cool enough to drink. "Oh my God that is amazing." She moans dramatically, winking at Quinn, who just rolls her eyes. "Kurt and I went to Rainbow, he wanted to get drunk and rebound." Okay, not entirely true, but it's not a lie either.

"Judging by how dumb an idea that is, I take it you suggested that?" Quinn raises her eyebrow over her own mug of coffee.

"Why does everybody think my advice is awful?"

"Because it is." Santana ignores Quinn's laughing as she walks over to the stove and piles some of Rachel's pancakes onto a plate.

She's halfway through her third one when she realizes Quinn's watching her. She chews carefully and then swallows the enormous bite of pancake in her mouth. "These are vegan aren't they?"

Quinn nods, the smirk on her face getting bigger. "Rachel said you'd like them if you just gave them a try. Clearly she was right."

Santana groans. She hears Rachel finally get out of the bathroom, and abandons the pancakes to go and have a shower. Passing a towel-clad Rachel in the hallway, she fights back the urge to make some snarky comment about Rachel's legs – which okay, wouldn't even be true, they go on for fucking miles for somebody who's like three foot tall – and pats her on the head.

"Nice pancakes, Berry."

She laughs at Rachel's indignant ranting about _manners Santana! I realize I am a guest in your home but I made those pancakes for my own breakfast! _as she closes the bathroom door and switches the shower on.

/

"You have got to be kidding." Santana says flatly.

She hears somebody mutter _told you she wouldn't go for it _but she doesn't know who. She also doesn't care. She fixes her gaze on Tina, standing at the front of the group, next to the whiteboard where the projector is beaming up the best way for Santana to run the Hollidaze project straight into the ground. "You have sixty seconds, starting now, to convince me why I should go for this insane idea."

"Santana, I know it's… _Different,_ and Holly might not even go for it, but think about it, it's funny, it still makes sense, and if anybody was going to get away with it, it would be Holly Holliday." Tina looks mildly terrified, but Santana doesn't blame her. She's had years to perfect her cold bitch expression; she's an expert at it now. She should get it patented.

"All of you get out. Except you, Chang, you stay right here." The rest of the advertising department files out of the meeting room, a few of them shooting sympathetic looks at Tina.

Santana is quite pleased with herself that she's managed to look Tina in the eye today, considering Tina basically cockblocked Santana and Brittany last night. Is there a lesbian equivalent to cockblocking? Clamjamming? Twatswatting?

Santana shakes off her odd train of thought and focuses on the whiteboard again. A quickly put together mock-up of the poster part of the Hollidaze advertising campaign is displayed, Sebastian and Sugar's faces grinning back at her, with the Hollidaze logo emblazoned across the top. That's not what Santana is concerned about though. The tagline is what she's having trouble deciding if it's a brilliant idea, or one of the worst anyone in this company has had. Personally, she thinks it's quite hilarious having a travel company with the tagline _Why don't you go away? _but the more uptight part of the population might not go for it. People such as Quinn. Quinn would never go for this.

"Santana, can you at least think about it?" Tina says, her voice shaking nervously.

"How long have you worked here?" Santana asks abruptly.

"Um, about a month and a half."

"Correct. In that month and a half, you've established yourself as possibly one of the best designers we've ever employed. I actually trust you. I trust you to make good decisions regarding our various projects." She smiles at Tina. She's trying to be nice, and Tina still looks frightened. Christ, this is why she doesn't usually bother being nice, too much effort and not enough reward. "Look, personally, I love it. I just don't know if Holly or the general audience would."

Tina's eyebrows furrow slightly. "I think Holly would. It's the kind of witty sarcasm she's known for."

Santana mulls it over for a few moments. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. If I run it past Holly to see if she'll go for it, and if she does, then we have our tagline.

Tina looks confused. "What do I have to do?"

"You, Asian Persuasion," Santana smirks. "Are the one that's going to run it by Quinn."

Santana cackles gleefully at the look of terror on Tina's face, and strolls out of the room.

/

Santana is standing in line at Starbucks, eyeing a slice of cherry cake sitting on the pastry counter, when the door opens behind her. A blast of cold October air smacks into Santana and she shivers, wishing she'd brought her blazer with her.

"You look cold." For once, Santana is thankful she feels like a lovesick teenager, because hearing Brittany's amused voice warms her entire body up.

She turns round to greet the blond. "Don't know what you're talking about, October in New York is practically tropical."

Brittany laughs, and Santana tries not to swoon, as usual. She then notices Brittany seems to have about 50 layers on. "You know the studio is only across the street right, it's not like you have to hike through a blizzard to get here, you're wearing far too much."

And just like that, the temperature in Starbucks seems to spike up a few degrees. Considering the last time they saw each other, Santana had her legs wrapped around Brittany's waist while the blond pressed kisses down her neck _and this is definitely not the time to be thinking about this_, Santana is surprised they actually managed to have a few sentences of normal conversation before she stuck her foot in her mouth.

Judging from the pink tinge spreading over Brittany's face, she's thinking about the exact same thing Santana is. She clears her throat. "Um, I was actually going to a sandwich place a few blocks over. I just saw you in here and wanted to say hi first. I haven't seen you today."

Santana nearly melts. Brittany is so sweet, and Santana's just… _Not_, and she has no idea why Brittany has even taken an interest in her. She almost wishes Brittany hadn't. It's just going to make it harder for Santana to tell Brittany everything was a mistake.

"Technically, you have already seen me today…" Santana trails off, raising her eyebrows suggestively, then laughing when realization spreads across Brittany's face, and she turns even pinker.

"Shut up." Brittany mumbles, trying and failing at keeping a smile off her face. She bites her lip and looks up at Santana, and Santana has to resist the urge to throw herself at the blond. Again. "Do you want to come have lunch with me?" Brittany asks, and Santana is nodding before she even thinks about it, because it's not like she's ever going to be able to say no to Brittany.

They walk out of Starbucks and turn left, walking along the street. Santana shivers, and again wishes she'd brought her blazer.

"Here." She turns to look at Brittany, and sees her tugging her jacket off, and then unzipping the hoodie she has on underneath, removing it and handing it to Santana. Santana tries to protest, but Brittany just shrugs her jacket back on and looks at Santana. "It's cold Santana. I don't want you to freeze. I don't know if a snowman could run a company as well as you can, but I don't think so. Or snowwoman?"

Santana feels another of her _Brittany Smiles_ tugging at her lips, i.e. the dopey one that makes her look like one half of those ridiculous couples on Valentine's Day adverts. While Brittany chatters on about gender roles in snow-people, and pulls the blond's white hoodie on, feeling the warmth spread through her body. It's from Abercrombie, one of those insanely fluffy ones that probably cost an entire paycheck. She wraps her arms around herself, inhaling the blond's scent, allowing herself a few more indulgent moments before she cuts off whatever this is with Brittany.

She wonders if this is what breaking up with somebody feels like.

/

"Wait," Santana interrupts Brittany, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. She swallows, since spraying Brittany with half chewed bread might not be the best idea. "_You_ came up with the tagline?"

Brittany nods and looks down, fixing her attention on her half eaten sandwich in front of her. "I did."

Santana realizes how incredulous her question sounded, and how Brittany might have taken it. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that, like I don't think you're capable of coming up with something like that, I just meant I didn't realize you were the one who'd come up with it. Tina never said who thought of it, I just assumed it was her, or someone in the advertising department." Santana knows she's rambling and she is very aware of how much of an idiot she sounds.

Brittany laughs, and takes a sip of her drink. "I didn't even realize it could be offensive, I just thought, it's a travel company, why don't people go away? As I'm sure you've noticed, I sometimes mix up my words." She looks down, breaking eye contact with Santana, her smile falling slightly. "Just something I've always had a problem with, since like middle school."

Santana hesitates, but thinks _fuck it_, and reaches over the table to brush her fingers over the back of Brittany's hand. "Doesn't mean you're not still one of the smartest people I've ever met." The resulting smile Brittany aims at Santana causes warmth to flood through her body from somewhere in her chest.

After a few more moments of just smiling like a fool at Brittany, Santana pulls her hand back, and returns her attention to her lunch, tempted to smack herself in the face with the sandwich. They're in public for fuck's sake. Hidden away at a corner table in a small café wedged between a CVS and an Olive Garden, but in public all the same.

They're nearly finished their lunch, and Santana knows this is probably the best time for her to tell Brittany they can't keep doing this. She knows she's being a coward, because if Brittany gets upset by it, she can just run back to the studio and hide in her office, avoiding Brittany for the rest of the day, but it's not like she's ever claimed to be a good person.

She sets the remaining bite or so of her sandwich down and clears her throat. "Brittany, I think we should talk."

Brittany stops mid-chew and looks up at her. "About the printer room? And last night?" Santana nods. "Yeah, Santana I-"

"It was a mistake." Santana blurts out, before cringing at how horrible she sounds. God she's such a bitch. "I don't know if you were expecting it to go anywhere, but it can't happen again Brittany. We need to just forget about it." Jesus, once she gets going on an offensive ramble she just can't stop herself.

Brittany stares at her in shock, before about ten thousand emotions flicker across her face, too fast for Santana to gauge how she's going to react, and then swallows her mouthful of food.

Her expression eventually settles on neutral, which yeah, really fucking helpful to Santana. She has no idea how Brittany is going to react.

"I agree with you."

Santana doesn't know why her entire body deflates with something that feels suspiciously like disappointment. She doesn't know why it feels like she's just been punched in the gut by Brittany's words. She doesn't know why she feels like a freight train has just slammed into her.

This is what she wants.

It basically sounds like Brittany is rejecting her, which is what Santana had the intent of this conversation as, but she doesn't know why she feels so… _hurt_ at the rejection.

It's what she wants.

Brittany and her kissing was a mistake the first time, and a mistake the second time. Sure she might like Brittany, but she'll get over it. They're just _feelings_. People get them all the time. She'll get over it. She hopes.

"I think we just needed to get it out the way." Brittany continues. "Like, there was this weird tension between us, after we had that dance, so we just had to get it out of our systems." Santana chooses not to point out that if she made out with everyone there was a _tension _with, she'd probably have kissed just about everybody she's ever met.

"Besides, the second time we were just drunk." Brittany breaks eye contact, letting her gaze drop to her lap where she's folded her hands. "We can just forget it ever happened."

Brittany's right, they just need to forget it ever happened. They can just go back to being friends. _Friends who also work together, _Santana reminds herself.

_It's what she wants. It's what she wants. It's what she wants._ Santana repeats the four words over and over in her head, trying to drill the mantra into herself.

Santana finds her voice and drops her gaze to the remains of her sandwich, fiddling with the wrapping. "Yeah exactly, the first time was a mistake, then the second time we were just drunk, we can just forget it. I mean, it meant nothing anyway."

Santana glances up at Brittany just in time to see the shock on her face turn to hurt and something twists in her stomach. She immediately wants to take it back; because that's one of the biggest loads of crap she's ever said. Santana isn't exactly sure what the two kisses meant, but it sure as hell didn't mean _nothing._

She's shot down a lot of girls, but she's never been affected by their hurt expressions until now. She feels like such a bitch.

"Yeah." Brittany eventually says, her expression shifting back to the neutral blank one, so Santana doesn't know what she's thinking. "It meant nothing." It sounds even worse being said back to her, but Santana tries to ignore that.

There's a slightly awkward silence for a few minutes while they just finish their food, before Brittany clears her throat.

"Do you think we can go back to being friends, Santana?" Brittany asks, hopefully. She tries to look happy, but even Santana can tell the smile is mostly forced.

"Yeah Britt, I'd like that." Santana ignores the voice at the back of her head shouting at her that she's an idiot, because she doesn't want to be _just_ friends with Brittany. She doesn't know what she wants, but the idea of being just friends doesn't sit well with her. It's not like she wants Brittany to be her girlfriend or something. She wants to kiss her again, and being the hot blooded woman she is, of course she still wants to fuck Brittany. But she doesn't want to date her, or anything ridiculous like that. Fuck, she's so confused.

Thankfully, some of the awkwardness dissipates as Brittany smiles softly at Santana, and stands up. "I have to go meet Quinn at a studio in Brooklyn for a shoot with Sebastian, so I'll be gone for the rest of the day. But I'll see you on Monday?" Brittany smiles in the most adorable hopeful way, and something twinges in Santana's chest.

Ignoring it, she stands up and brushes the million crumbs off her lap. "Okay, well I'll see you on Monday then Britt. Have fun." There's a slightly awkward second, before Brittany giggles and rolls her eyes, and pulls Santana forward into a hug. Santana relaxes into Brittany's arms, wrapping her own around the blond's back. She tries to ignore how much she likes the feeling of their chests pressed together, and how much better it felt when certain other parts of their bodies were touching at the same time. This is not going to help with the whole being _just friends_ thing.

They part, and Brittany smiles at Santana before picking up her paper cup of coffee and her bag, before turning to walk towards the café door. Santana waves at her through the window, and goes to pick her own coffee and bag up when she realizes she still has Brittany's hoodie.

Santana debates whether or not to put it on before deciding that _friends wear other friends clothes_, and it's fucking cold outside, and she's not getting frostbite in _October._ Pulling the hoodie on, she collects her stuff and exits the café.

/

Late on the following Sunday afternoon, Santana has just gotten back from a jog around Central Park and is in the living room, sprawled out across the entire sofa, in sweatpants and Brittany's hoodie, her laptop open in front of her. She's attaching a few files onto an email to send to Tina when the front door bangs open and Quinn comes storming in, Rachel right behind her.

"Quinn I'm sorry, but what was I supposed to do, he was _right there_!"

"Rachel you are completely missing the point!"

Santana tries to ignore their argument as they stand squabbling at the door, until Berry's shrill voice squeaking something about Quinn having no business sticking her nose into her personal life gets on her last nerve.

"_Hey!_ I don't give a shit about whatever you're arguing about, but if you're going to continue your lover's quarrel, do it somewhere else! And shut the fucking door you morons, I'd prefer our neighbors to not think I run a home for insane dwarfs."

She peers over the top of the sofa and sees Rachel glare up at Quinn again, before storming out the door. She returns her attention to her laptop as she hears Quinn slam the door, before walking into the kitchen grumbling to herself.

"While you're there Q, get me a glass of wine would you?"

"Fuck off, Santana." Quinn snarls at her, before stomping off into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jesus Christ, they're going to get a noise violation report if Quinn keeps slamming doors. Santana stares at the closed door, wondering what the hell happened. Clearly she and Rachel had some form of fight, so she decides to go straight to the source to find out what's going on. She picks up her phone and scrolls through until she finds who she's looking for, and presses call.

"Satan! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kurt's cheerfully high voice answers after a few rings.

"Is Berry being more weird and moody than usual?"

There's a pause. "She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Santana grumpily replies. Why is she always out of the loop?

"Rachel and Finn broke up last night. I think it's actually for good this time." Kurt's voice rises at the end slightly. She can almost imagine the glee on his face when he realizes she doesn't have a clue what he's talking about. Gossip queen.

"_What?"_ Santana screeches. "Why didn't anybody tell me?" She hasn't spoken to Rachel since yesterday morning, and Quinn had been mysteriously absent last night after she got home from the studio, and she had fallen asleep before her best friend had made it home from wherever she was. She'd had an exhausting week, okay?

Despite how much she insults and mocks Rachel, she does care about the hobbit. In her own special Lopez way.

"I assumed Quinn had told you, or Rachel told you herself. Why? Is Rachel there? I just got home and the apartment is suspiciously quiet."

"No Rachel just left. She and Quinn came thundering in here like a herd of fucking elephants arguing about something, Rachel fucked off and Quinn's sulking in her room. What happened with Berry and Jolly Green?"

"She didn't tell me the specifics. She probably thought my poor broken heart couldn't take it. But from what I gathered, Finn was being his usual oafish self, and probably went too far with something offensive he said. Quinn stayed here last night; I just left her to do the comforting."

Well that explains Quinn's mysterious absence last night. Santana was hoping she'd finally gotten laid and therefore might be less uptight.

Santana snorts. "How are you anyway, with the whole Blaine thing?" She's not a complete monster, she may as well make sure Kurt's not contemplating throwing himself off the roof of his building.

Kurt groans. "Oh God. He called me yesterday morning, when I was still naked in bed with a hot French model, may I add, begging me to forgive him."

Santana laughs. "What did you tell him?" There's another pause. "Kurt?"

"I may be meeting him tonight to give him a chance to explain." Kurt says nervously.

"What? Kurt! Why the fuck would you even consider giving that douche a second chance? He cheated on you, in case it'd somehow slipped your mind!"

"I know Santana, and I don't really expect you to understand, but I loved him, you can't just forget about somebody like that, especially someone who means so much to you. I never even gave him a chance to explain."

Santana ignores the flash of hurt she gets at Kurt so dismissively saying she could never understand love, and sits up, preparing to unleash a rant at her best gay. "What is there to explain? Why he fucked manwhore number one instead of manwhore number two? There's nothing for him to explain, Kurt, _he cheated_." She snaps down the phone, emphasizing the last two words. "There's no excuse for it, if he loved you, he wouldn't have slept with someone else! Cheaters are the lowest of the low Kurt, you cannot possibly consider taking him back."

"Santana I appreciate that your misguided views on my love life are coming from a place of caring, but with all due respect, this has nothing to do-"

Santana hangs up. If Kurt wants to go back to Blaine Cheaterson then that's his problem, not Santana's. Quickly sending her email to Tina, she drags herself off the safe haven of the sofa and considers how best to approach a pissed off Quinn.

Steeling herself for getting yelled at, and possibly having stuff thrown at her, she knocks on Quinn's door.

"Quinn?"

"Go away Santana."

Santana ignores her, and pushes the door open. The lights are off, but the light filtering from the hallway illuminates the lump of covers on the bed that she assumes is Quinn. She should be safe from any flying projectiles then.

"Go _away_, Santana." The lump on the bed shifts slightly, and Santana gingerly sits down on the edge of it, hoping she won't get kicked.

"Look, Quinn, obviously I have no idea what's going on, but you're in bed at like 7pm on a Sunday evening, and even you can't be that lame, so what's wrong?"

Quinn's muffled voice comes through the covers. "Why do you care?"

Santana rolls her eyes. After being nice to Kurt on Friday evening, she's going to have to do something particularly awful tomorrow to bring her bitch equilibrium back to normal. Although the look on Brittany's face when Santana lied through her teeth and said _it meant nothing_ was probably terrible enough.

"Because you're my best friend Quinn. I'm the only one who's allowed to hurt your feelings. Besides, if this is something really bad, I don't want to have to put up with you crying and listening to Kelly Clarkson and Adele for the next week or few. I'm not sure I could handle that."

There's a huff from the end of the lump that Santana thinks is where Quinn's head is that sounds suspiciously like Quinn trying to stifle a laugh. The covers shift and Quinn's head pops up. "You're such a bitch."

"I love you too. Now, what's crawled up your ass?"

Quinn stares at her covers, playing with the edge of the pillowcase, and takes a while to answer. When she eventually speaks, it's definitely not what Santana is expecting.

"Did you really love Spencer?"

Santana jerks back, unable to stop the flash of hurt shooting through her. Old habits. She's slightly at a loss for what to say, but eventually settles on a hissed _What?_ while narrowing her eyes at Quinn.

"Did you really love her? I just… How do you know if you're in love with someone? Given my track record with relationships…" She trails off, glancing up at Santana.

Santana resists the urge to smack her best friend in the face with the fluffy red pillow sitting next to her, and grits her teeth together.

"Yes, I really loved her, but if I'd known you wanted a trip the wrong way down Memory Lane, I would have left you to drown in your own tears, Fabray." She spits out.

Quinn doesn't even seem to notice how close Santana is to pummeling her with a pillow, and keeps talking. "I mean, I don't know if you're really the best person to ask considering what happened with you-"

Santana cuts her off. "If you continue that train of thought I will not hesitate to suffocate you while you're sleeping." She quickly changes the subject. "Why do you want to know how to tell when you're in love with someone anyway? Love is stupid."

Quinn raises an eyebrow at her.

"It is!" Santana continues. "It changes people, people you thought you knew turn into people you don't recognize. It's a waste of time, feelings, usually money, and somebody _always_ gets hurt in the end. Look what happened to Kurt and Blaine, Finn and Rachel-"

Quinn flinches at the second ex-couple mentioned and Santana pauses, mid-dramatically ticking each couple off on her fingers. A certain mystery hickey from a few weeks ago suddenly pops into her mind, and she immediately starts trying to put the puzzle pieces together. All like, two of them.

"Why do you even want to know Quinn? Got a crush on somebody?"

Quinn takes about a second too long to give her answer, a withering look at Santana followed by a _hell no, all the booze you drink finally start affecting your brain Lopez?_ But that's all Santana needs to realize Quinn's got a thing for somebody. She hopes like fuck it isn't Finnocence. After Quinn dating him freshman and sophomore year, and then Berry on-and-off with him since then, she's had enough of Finn fucking Hudson to last her a lifetime. Maybe it's Puck? Sam? Some dude she doesn't even know?

Santana decides to leave it, just like she did with the hickey. If it's really important, Quinn will eventually open up to her. Even if it is slurred round a second bottle of tequila. Pushing Quinn is not something Santana wants to do.

/

Later that night, when Santana is trying to sleep, Quinn's question rings through her head again.

_How do you know if you're in love with someone?_

Santana has no answer to that question, but she eventually falls asleep dreaming of blue eyes and blond hair.

/

_How do you know if you're in love with someone?_

_Fuck Quinn_, Santana thinks, as the question that has been plaguing her mind all fucking day echoes through her mind again.

She's sitting at her desk at 5.30pm on a Monday evening, thinking about fucking _love_. She's going to murder Quinn. Make her cook enough food to last Santana a while, then murder her.

_How do you know if you're in love with someone?_

She wants to scream at herself. She doesn't fucking know. She only thing close to _being in love with_ _someone_ she's felt was in high school, with Spencer fucking Dawson. And that was a love tainted by Santana's fears, and Spencer's lies.

"And look how that turned out." Santana snorts out loud to herself, and her empty office.

She might have loved Spencer, but having had years to reflect, she doesn't know if she was ever _in_ love with her. Having your girlfriend, the person you thought you loved, and could trust no matter what, out you to the entire school, certainly makes you think if the feelings were ever real.

Santana hears a familiar laugh echo down the hallway outside, and groans, letting her head fall into her hands.

When Quinn had asked that fucking question, Santana's mind may or may not have jumped straight to Brittany.

She's so confused.

She's so afraid, as well, if she's being honest. Terrified, actually.

She tries to ignore the fear gripping her chest, and sinking into her bones, and for the first time, Santana allows herself to truly acknowledge her feelings. The feelings she's pretty sure started the moment she so gracefully walked straight into Brittany two months ago at Starbucks.

Santana doesn't believe in love at first sight, or soulmates, or any of that romantic bullshit, but she does believe in love. Before her Abuelo died, her Abuela and he convinced her of that fact.

She believes in love, but that doesn't stop her from being scared shitless at the fact she might be feeling it again. She loved Spencer, and look where that got her. Broken hearted, and closed off from the world, with walls so fucking high only a particularly persistent blond seems to be able to get past them.

She's fucking terrified that she's going to fall completely in love with Brittany – _like Brittany's giving her a choice, being so fucking perfect and all _– and Brittany's not going to love her back. That Brittany's going to have her heart, but Santana won't have Brittany's. That she's going to completely lose herself, lose sight of who she is, if she falls in love with Brittany.

She's fucking terrified that if Brittany does fall in love with her, she then realizes what an awful person Santana really is. She doesn't think she could handle having her fragile heart broken a second time.

Love changes people. It changes everything about them, the way they act, the way they think. Sure, sometimes it changes people for the better, but Santana is too cynical to think that could ever happen to her.

But despite the lies Santana told Brittany on Saturday at that cozy little sandwich shop, she is certain of how she feels about the blond. And it scares the absolute shit out of her.

That maybe, just maybe... She's falling in love with Brittany.

And there's nothing she can do to stop it.


	8. Chapter Eight

Hello :) As always, thank you so so much for all the reviews/favourites/follows :)

Also a special thank you to ohvalerievalerie at Tumblr who made the most perfect amazing wonderful fic poster for Paperweight. Go check it out now /post/43564895840/ :)

This was supposed to be way longer, but since this has already broken 10k, I shall just split the chapter into two. The next update isn't going to be until maybe Monday at the earliest, as I have birthday celebrations to attend on Friday and Saturday, and then I am working on Sunday. The joys lol.

Also, I know the beginning of this chapter is confusing, but Santana explains everything later on :)

-insert usual shout out to justsomebrittanagleek and Never Knew I Needed being flawless as always- Seriously, if you're not reading that, you should be.

Anyway, I'll shut up now, hope you enjoy :) Feel free to leave me a review if you're feeling kind :P

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

Wednesday morning, Santana wakes up at 7am, as usual, and by 7.05am, just like every October 7th for the past eleven years, she's in a foul mood. She drags herself out of bed and walks into the kitchen to find Quinn to take her anger out on, but the apartment is quiet. Clearly Quinn didn't bother coming back home last night, after rushing out the door at 10pm, saying something about an _emergency at Rachel's, see you tomorrow, love you!_

She grumbles to herself, and opens the refrigerator, pulling out some of Rachel's vegan pancakes. Not that she'll ever admit it, but they're good. Like, maybe even better than the regular pancakes Quinn buys and then she eats.

/

She's in the shower when the tears come. Santana's fucking glad Quinn isn't here as she has practically breaks down, sliding down against the wall onto the white tiles. The water's cold by the time she manages to stop.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she glares at herself in the mirror, and steels herself for her yearly day of pretending she's okay.

/

Santana is stood outside the front door of the studio, usual Starbucks in one hand, her phone in the other, replying to a particularly graphic text from Puck, when she sees them. She pauses, mid-type of the word _vagina_, and glares daggers through the glass door.

Brittany is stood on the other side of the glass, sitting on the receptionist's desk, impossibly long legs on show, with her head thrown back laughing adorably at something. However, when Santana walked out ten minutes earlier, she was having a discussion with Kitty about something called a Lord Tubbington. Now, she's talking to a beefy looking delivery boy, and judging from the smug smirk on the douchebag's face, he's probably flirting with her. And it looks like Brittany is going along with it.

Santana feels the misguided anger build up inside her until she can't control it, and she's storming through the front door of the studio before she realizes what she's doing. Kitty sees her first, and she looks slightly terrified as Santana marches up to the desk, turning her cold glare onto the delivery boy.

"Can I help you with something?" Santana growls at him, interrupting Brittany mid-sentence. He looks down his nose at her, and she can feel Brittany's gaze burning into the side of her head.

The delivery boy – Hunter, according to his name badge – buffs out his chest and smirks at Brittany again before turning his attention to Santana.

"I have a delivery for a Quinn Fabray?" He motions to a large cardboard box sitting beside the desk.

"I'm Quinn. I'll get someone to take it up. You can leave now." Santana continues glaring at him, but apparently the idiot in front of her is not getting the hint, because he doesn't move.

"Can I see some ID please?"

Jesus Christ.

"Listen doucheface, now would be a very good time to turn around, and waddle your way back out the doors of my studio."

It's not even her best threat, but he finally seems to get the hint and starts to shift nervously.

"Sorry, but I can't hand them over without proof of indetification."

Santana is about to unleash a Lima Heights worthy rant on him, when the front door swings open, and the actual Quinn comes strolling through, looking far too happy for 10am on a Wednesday morning.

"Have you been with Berry all night? What the fuck took you so long to get here?" She snaps at Quinn, who just rolls her eyes and stops in front of the desk. Hunter's jaw is hanging open, and Santana almost laughs when she realizes he is surrounded by three hot blondes and herself. Every straight guy or lesbian's dream. Then she remembers the way he was looking at Brittany like she was a piece of meat and the irrational anger flares back up.

"Actually, spare me the details of your love fest with the hobbit, this boyband reject says he has some delivery for you." She flaps a hand in Hunter's general direction, then turns to stomp moodily towards the elevator. She gets halfway there when a hand on her arm stops her.

She tries to keep her face impassive as she turns to meet Brittany's gaze.

"That was incredibly rude, Santana."

Santana huffs, and rolls her eyes dramatically. "Yeah well, he was being an asshole. All he had to do was leave the box with Kitty and then he could skip his merry way back to Neverland."

"How was he being an asshole? He didn't do anything wrong."

"He was looking at you like a piece of meat Britt, how is that not wrong?" Santana scoffs.

"He's a guy Santana, they're mostly pigs, but unfortunately that's what they do. He wasn't saying or doing anything inappropriate, he was just... Appreciating. There's nothing wrong with that, everyone does it."

"Well he shouldn't be appreciating you!" Santana snaps, instantly wishing she could take the words back. She watches Brittany's face go from shocked, to confused, to irritated.

"Why not?"

Santana doesn't have an answer.

"Huh? Why shouldn't he, Santana?" Santana stays quiet. Brittany laughs, defeated. "You sound like a jealous girlfriend Santana. If this is about Saturday, you were the one that said it meant nothing, so why are you-"

"Jesus Christ Brittany, not everything in the world revolves around you! Fucking hell, just let it go!" Santana knows she's gone too far – _again _– when Brittany's mouth snaps shut, and her bottom lip trembles slightly. Santana shuts her eyes, wishing for the floor to open up and swallow her whole, and when she reopens them, Brittany's glossy eyes don't meet hers.

"Britt, I- Shit, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, Santana." Before Santana can protest, Brittany is walking away from her, towards the stairs.

Santana groans. She's certainly on fine bitch form today. Fucking October 7th.

/

Santana holes herself up in her office for almost the entire rest of the day, claiming a fuckload of paperwork to do. Tina comes in once or twice to discuss a few design issues, but aside from that, she's mostly left alone.

Until 5.30pm, when her door flies open and Quinn comes storming in. Setting her hands on the table and glaring at Santana, she opens her mouth to speak. "I don't know what the hell you did or said to Brittany, and frankly I don't care. I assume you were your usual charming self for whatever reason, but whatever you did, fix it, Santana. One of my best photographers has been miserable the entire damn day because of you, and this is a shoot that needs a good atmosphere."

"Fine, whatever, I'll apologize." Santana ignores Quinn, focusing on the papers in front of her. That is, until Quinn's hand grabs her chin and forces her to look up.

"I'm serious Santana. Whatever you did, fix it."

"Fucks sake, I will Fabray, calm your tits." Santana jerks out of Quinn's hold, glaring up at her best friend.

Quinn studies her for a second, her weird piercing gaze boring into Santana's. "What the hell is wrong with you today? I mean, yeah you're usually a bitch, but this is a little extreme, even for you."

"Look at a fucking calendar, Fabray." Santana returns her eyes to her desk, refusing to look at Quinn. If she saw the pity in Quinn's eyes she'd probably start crying again.

"You sent me out to buy you tampons last week Santana. I know it's not your damn period."

"Of course it's not my damn period Fabray, it's October the fucking seventh! You know, the wonderful day when my Dad decided to just up and leave us!" Santana shouts, standing up and whirling dramatically round, trying to force down the tears she can feel pricking at her eyes.

Quinn goes silent behind her, and she hopes the door is closed. The less people that heard that little outburst the better.

"I didn't- Santana, I'm sorry, I forgot what date it was."

Santana half-heartedly shrugs her shoulders and clears her throat, trying to get the upset tone out of it. "Yeah well, you've practically been shacking up with Berry and Lady Hummel since Finnept left the gay picture, so... Whatever. I'm fine, I can deal on my own."

"No you can't." Quinn says softly behind her. Santana doesn't answer.

Santana can hear Quinn slowly crossing the room until she's right behind her. "I'm sorry. I've been a pretty crappy best friend. Just stuff with Rachel, uh, Finn leaving was kinda hard on her."

"Yeah well my Dad leaving when I was 13 was kinda hard on me as well Quinn." Santana snaps, and immediately regrets it. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a bitch... At least not this much."

Quinn chuckles behind her. Santana slowly turns around to look at her best friend's concerned face.

"I just- You'd think it'd get easier you know? Over time? But it doesn't." Santana smiles sadly. "It really doesn't."

She sucks in her lips and tries to hold back the tears. But then Quinn, fucking Quinn, opens her arms and just says. "I know, Santana."

Santana falls into Quinn, wrapping her arms around her waist as she sobs into Quinn's shoulder. She whimpers, burying her head into the neck in front of her as Quinn gently rubs up and down her back.

Quinn's gently murmuring _I know_ over and over again, and with most people, they'd probably just be saying that to try to console her. Quinn at least actually geniunely does know. Quinn's mom divorced Quinn's cheating dickbag of a father the end of their sophomore year of high school, and Santana had been the one there for Quinn when the blond showed up at Santana's doorstep two days after, with a bottle of tequila in one hand, a pint of ice cream in the other, and mascara streaked down her face.

99 per cent of the year their friendship might be based on insults and rudely calling each other out on their shit, but on October 7th and June 18th every year, they're always a shoulder for the other to cry on.

Santana pulls back with a sniff once her tears subside, and Quinn plucks a tissue from the desk and hands it to her.

"You look like a panda. Ever heard of waterproof mascara?" Quinn laughs, peering at Santana's face.

"I bought some, but then a certain bitch I live with fucking used it all." Santana jabs weakly, smiling as she wipes at her eyes with the tissue.

Quinn just laughs again, and gives Santana another hug.

Despite how fucking awful her October 7ths usually start out, Quinn usually manages to make them bearable by the end of the day.

/

Santana pushes open the door to the roof, stepping out into the evening air. She's wearing Brittany's hoodie beneath her coat and has a scarf wrapped around her neck, and she's holding a normal coffee in one hand, and a vanilla and hazelnut latte with whipped cream in the other, and she still fucking shivers. Fucking New York.

"Good God, it's cold." Kurt points out the obvious beside her.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Santana states dryly, rolling her eyes as Kurt catches sight of Sebastian and waves maniacally.

"Rebound going well then? Blaine must be heartbroken." She says, and Kurt just flips her off as he skips over to Sebastian.

The photoshoot that had been taking place earlier in the sunny afternoon is almost finished clearing up. Sugar and Sebastian are sitting gossiping beside the make up booth, where Kurt joins them, and Sam and Rory are helping take the massive spotlights down.

She looks around the chaos of the rooftop shoot before she spies who she's actually looking for. Brittany is standing next to Unique and, for some odd reason, Ryder. Saying hello to Sebastian and Sugar as she walks past them, she slowly slides up next to Brittany, smiling at the three of them.

Unique says hello in her usual flamboyant way, Ryder beams at her, and Brittany glances at the two coffees, before a tiny smile slowly works its way onto her lips. Score.

Santana makes a mental note to tip Ryder at some point, because he interrupts whatever Unique's talking, saying they'll be late for dinner unless they leave then. The two of them stroll off arm in arm, leaving Santana alone with Brittany.

Like, literally alone. Everyone else has fucked off, so it's just them on the rooftop. How romantic.

"Hey." Santana thinks a greeting might be a good icebreaker. "I got you coffee." She thrusts the hand holding the latte towards Brittany. Who can say no to coffee?

Apparently Brittany, who just raises her eyebrows and glances briefly at the profered cup, before looking back at Santana.

Christ.

"Look, I'm really no fucking good at this, but I'm sorry Britt. For being such a total raging bitch earlier."

"Okay." Brittany says brightly, liberating the cup from Santana and taking a sip.

"Okay?" Santana asks in disbelief. That can't just be it, can it?

"Okay." Brittany repeats. "You said sorry, so I forgive you. Okay."

Brittany laughs at Santana's confused expression. "From what I hear, getting an apology from Santana Lopez is a pretty difficult task. So I figure when you say you're sorry, but like, not sarcastically, you really mean it." Brittany smiles.

Santana laughs, taking a drink of her own coffee. "Of course I meant it Britt. Just, bad day, is all."

"Are you okay now?"

"I am now." It slips out before Santana can stop it, but the shy smile and following blush that spread across Brittany's face makes her not really care.

Santana turns around and walks towards the make up desk. Shoving the huge amount of make up out the way, she hops up onto it, swinging her legs slightly as she gestures for Brittany to join her. The blond is only wearing a thin tshirt, and Santana can see the goosebumps that appear on her arm.

She likes to think they're more due to being in Santana's presence than the cold, but they're supposed to be friends, and thoughts like that are not going help cement that notion.

She places her coffee cup down next to her and unbuttons her coat, tugging off and placing it around Brittany's shoulders. The affectionate look Brittany sends her in return causes her heart to start thumping madly in her chest. As usual. Until-

"Is that my hoodie?" Brittany questions, raising her eyebrow at Santana's choice of clothing.

"Um..." Santana feels her face heat up, Brittany's smirk is not helping. "It's warm. And you never asked for it back. Shut up." She giggles, taking another sip of coffee to distract herself from brittany.

"I don't mind. It looks better on you anyway."

"I highly doubt that." Santana wonders if this coffee is laced with something that's making her blurt stuff out without thinking.

Brittany just smiles softly again, and there's a few minutes of comfortable silence, until she speaks. "So, who was your first kiss?"

"Pardon?" Santana shoots a glance at Brittany, confused as to where this is going.

"Well, we're here, and I don't want to go yet, and obviously you don't either cause you're still here, so let's play the question game." Brittany excitedly explains. "So, first kiss. Go."

"Tyler Mills in eighth grade. You?"

"Steven Adams in seventh. First pet?"

They continue like this for a while, firing ridiculous questions at each other until Brittany treads too close to something Santana is not comfortable talking about. "What's your coming out story?"

She doesn't answer, taking a gulp of her now lukewarm coffee instead.

"Sorry." Brittany says quietly. "You don't have to answer-"

"Rachel was actually the first person I told."

"Rachel?"

"Rachel Berry, as in Broadway Rachel Berry. She was there the night of the Hollidaze deal?"

"You mean the night I basically groped you on the dancefloor?" Well Brittany is certainly blunt.

"Yes Britt, that would be the night." She laughs, taking another drink of coffee. Brittany nudges her slightly, prompting her to continue.

"I mean I always knew I liked girls, since I was old enough to like, know what it was to be attracted to someone. Like probably every other lesbian, I thought it'd pass, you know, it was just a phase or whatever, but of course, it didn't. Then at some party the summer between sophomore and junior year, I got dared to do seven minutes in heaven with this cheerleader. Her name was Emily, she was a senior, and she was hot as fuck."

Brittany giggles next to her, and Santana thinks she shifts slightly closer. October in New York is cold. Santana's not going to complain.

"So yeah, after we made out, I was kinda like, shit I think I might be gay, and pretty much went into full gay panic mode. I slept with Puck so many times, basically trying to convince myself I was straight."

Brittany's definitely shifting closer to her. Santana gulps.

"Then when I was in junior year, I met this girl called Spencer." She gulps again, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "She transferred over from Lima High School, and she joined the Cheerios, our cheerleading team. Long story short, we started dating in secret, and Rachel somehow just knew. She's got two dads, maybe she's got some kind of straight girl gaydar or something."

She pauses to take another sip of her coffee, which is pretty much cold now, so after she sets it down next to her on the table.

"She cornered me after Glee Club, like our show choir group thing, one day and started going on about how much everyone would still love me, and how no one would see me any differently and all that crap. I mean I didn't actually have a clue what she was jabbering about, but then she said something about Spencer and it clicked. And I kinda just blurted it out, like, _I'm gay, Rachel._"

"What did she say?"

"She asked if she could sing a k.d. Lang song in the next Glee meeting. I probably told her to fuck off and not tell anyone in some particularly colorful way."

Brittany laughs again, and now Santana is sure Brittany has been sneaking closer, because her right thigh is pressed against Brittany's now, and she can feel Brittany's body moving when she laughs. Fantastic.

"What happened with you and Spencer?" As much as she likes Brittany, she is still not okay sharing that particular part of her history with anyone, even Quinn.

"We broke up. Who was the first person you came out to?" She asks Brittany, trying to get the focus off of herself.

"Lord Tubbington."

"Okay, what the hell is a Lord Tubbington?" Brittany laughs, and digs around in her jeans pocket, tugging out her phone and unlocking it. She scrolls through her photos, until she lands on one of a giant gray furry... Thing.

"Brittany... What the actual fuck is that?"

"Lord Tubbington. He's my cat. And he's sensitive about his weight, so whatever you were about to say, don't."

Santana looks up to Brittany's smirk and twinkling eyes. "He's, uh..." Santana tries to think of a word to describe the enormous cat without offending it or Brittany and comes up blank. "Never mind. Your cat was the first person, or.. Animal, you came out to?"

"Yep." Brittany replies cheerfully, pocketing her phone again. "I mean I always knew as well, I just didn't know if that was supposed to be normal, but when I told Lord Tubbington that I like guys and girls, he just told me he loved me all the same. Then tried to get me to buy him cigarettes."

Santana chooses not to comment on that last part of Brittany's sentence. "How did your parents take it?" She asks instead.

"Oh they were fine with it. I brought home my first boyfriend when I was 15, and then my first girlfriend a few months later and they didn't care either way. How did yours take it?"

Santana pauses. Her Mom was perfectly fine with it, a little shocked to begin with, but she got over it. Her Abuela was a little harder to convince. She had refused to speak to Santana for months afterwards, but slowly started to come around. Things were still tense between them, but at least she was allowed back for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.

She didn't even know if her Dad knew.

"My Mom was fine with it." She eventually settles on. "My Abuela, not so much, but she's coming around."

"What about your Dad?"

Santana shuts her eyes, knowing the stab of pain shooting through her isn't Brittany's fault, but still wishing she hadn't asked that.

What surprises Santana though, is how quickly the pain dulls back down to nothing. Normally whenever she thinks about her Dad, the first sudden jabs of pain fade down to a very present ache somewhere in her chest. But she barely feels it now.

She looks at Brittany, who is looking at her with the most affection and honesty Santana has ever seen directed at her.

She wonders if she can do this a second time today.

"My Dad left when I was 13, actually." Santana says quietly, focusing her attention on her hands sitting in her lap, playing with the zip of the hoodie.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know." Brittany says softly. Santana shakes her head, _it's okay_, of course Brittany didn't know.

She's not angry. She doesn't feel like she's about to burst into tears. She doesn't feel the urge to down an entire bottle of vodka.

Santana suspects that this all has something to do with the blond sitting next to her, who's slowly sliding her hand into Santana's lap to tangle their fingers together.

Santana wonders what it is about Brittany that makes her able to trust her so completely, but she thinks she knows already.

She looks up into the most beautiful blue eyes she's ever seen. "If you ever want to talk about it, I've been told I'm good at listening." Brittany smiles softly, squeezing Santana's hand.

Santana takes a deep breath. "It was today, actually. Eleven years ago today. It's kinda why I've been such a delightful person all day."

Brittany doesn't say anything, just runs her thumb gently along the back of Santana's hand, silently prompting her to go on, if she wants.

"I remember him coming home late one day from work, like midnight kinda late. I was supposed to be asleep, but I heard them fighting. My Dad was saying all this shit about how no one would ever love my Mom the way he loved her, that she was better off just staying with him because no one else would ever put up with her. All that wonderful emotionally abusive crap. I managed to block out the rest of the argument, and when I woke up in the morning he was gone. Like, for good."

"Santana..." Brittany trails off, shifting slightly so she's facing her.

"That's the first time I've ever told that story without crying." Santana breathes, mostly to herself. _God, what is Brittany doing to her?_

"I am pretty awesome." Brittany smiles, ducking down to try to meet Santana's eyes. Santana is completely unprepared for the rush Brittany's concerned gaze gives her.

"Don't look at me like that, Britt." She mumbles, looking over at the skyscrapers to her left.

"Like what?" Brittany's lifted a hand to the back of Santana's neck, gently running her fingers over the base of it.

Santana looks back, and she can't fully meet Brittany's eyes. There's too much affection in them for Santana to handle. "Like you could, I dunno, _save me_, or something. I don't need saving."

"Well if you did I wouldn't mind being your hero." Brittany replies quietly. Santana's heart starts thumping double time. This is the first time Brittany has made any reference, no matter how small, to having feelings for Santana beyond just wanting to jump her. She forces herself to look into Brittany's eyes. "You'd make a pretty beautiful princess."

It's possibly one of the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said to Santana, but because it's Brittany, she gets away with it. Of course. Then Brittany smirks, and starts to sing.

"Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?" She jumps up off the desk, and holds her hand out to Santana. "Would you run, and never look back?"

"Britt, what are you doing?" Santana can't help but start laughing.

"I'm singing to you Santana. You looked sad and I don't like when people are sad, and even less so when it's you because you're too pretty to be sad. Speaking of being sad, would you cry, if you saw me crying?"

Brittany wiggles her fingers, and Santana's mind tries to nosedive off the building and into the gutter below.

Unable to stop her laughter, she relents to Brittany's pouting and hops off the desk, grabbing ahold of her hand as Brittany sings the last line. "And would you save my soul tonight?"

Brittany wraps her arms around Santana's waist, and Santana is left with no choice but to wraps hers around Brittany's neck. She can feel the entire length of their bodies pressing together, but as Brittany starts bobbing around, dragging her around the rooftop in some strange exaggerated form of a waltz, she knows this isn't sexual. At all.

"I can be your hero baby." Brittany belts out the chorus, slightly off key, which just makes it even more adorable. "I can kiss away the pain." She swoops her face closer to Santana's, who thinks her heart may possibly stop, but then Brittany angles her lips at the last moment and kisses Santana's cheek with a loud smack.

"I will stand by you forever." Brittany slows their dramatic twirling down until they're just standing, swaying in each other arms. Friends totally do this, don't they? Badly sing romantic, mushy love songs to each other while not dancing? Santana hopes so. She'd certainly feel weird doing this with Quinn. And especially with Rachel or Kurt.

Brittany raises her eyebrows, prompting Santana to sing the last line. She fails miserably at not letting her gaze drop briefly to Brittany's lips before gazing back into her eyes. "You can take, my breath away."

Brittany doesn't seem too concerned with singing the rest of the song, and her gaze drops to Santana's lips. Santana can feel their chests moving up and down in tandem, and Brittany probably feels the increase in her heart rate when the blond licks her lips, eyes still fixated on Santana's.

Santana is so close to leaning in and kissing Brittany when the door to the roof bangs open, and the two women leap away from each other.

"There you are. I've been looking for you for ages." Quinn looks slightly annoyed as she walks over to them. She takes in Brittany's slightly flushed face and Santana's refusal to look at her, and narrows her eyes.

"What is-"

"What do you want Quinn?" Santana asks, cutting her off. Quinn looks suspiciously at her again before answering.

"I was looking for you. We're having a movie night. Just you, me, and a Pinot Grigio I _borrowed_ from Kurt. No Rachel."

It doesn't send a thrill through her body like Brittany's method of cheering her up did, but Santana is trying not to compare the two anymore. Quinn is her best friend, and she is always going to be her best friend.

She's not falling in love with Quinn. It's Brittany she's doing that with.

It's Brittany who she's falling in love with, Brittany who's singing to her and dancing like a fool with her just to cheer her up, Brittany who's turning out to be everything Santana has never realized she's wanted.

Well. _That_ doesn't still scare the shit out of her or anything.

Ignoring the traces of fear still lurking in her stomach, she turns to Brittany. "Since Quinn is being her usual rude self, allow me to walk you out." She offers her arm up to Brittany, who giggles heavenly, and loops their arms together. Quinn scoffs loudly, but trails after them.

/

The three of them ride the elevator down, and Santana tries not to smile at how cute Brittany looks in her coat. It's a ridiculous thought that she definitely should not be having, but she likes the way Brittany looks in her clothes. Although she'd probably still think Brittany's gorgeous if she turned up for work one day wearing a garbage bag. She's slightly biased.

Once they leave the studio, and Brittany has hugged them both goodbye and vanished off in a taxi, Quinn turns to Santana. "I didn't know you two were friends."

"I wasn't aware I had to ask your permission to make friends, Fabray."

Quinn rolls her eyes, as they start walking toward the subway. "That's not what I meant. It's just, I've never seen you become such close friends with someone so quickly."

Now it's Santana's turn to roll her eyes. "How the hell did you gather we're close friends from like five minutes of being in our company?"

"Santana I could hear you laughing from the stairwell. If she can make you laugh like that on today of all days, I'd say that counts as a close friend." Quinn smirks at Santana's dumbfounded look, laughing as she descends the steps into the subway station.

It's then that Santana realizes she's barely thought about her pathetic excuse for a father since Brittany showed up. Nobody has ever been able to distract her sufficiently enough to forget about him altogether.

Just another reason to fall that little bit more in love with Brittany.

Quinn is right, Santana guesses she classes Brittany as a close friend. Anyone who knows about her Dad _and_ Spencer, even the bare minimum, would probably count as a close friend.

It's a shame she doesn't want to be _just_ Brittany's friend.

/

A few hours later, when Santana and Quinn are cuddled up on Quinn's bed, surrounded by the contents of their junk food cupboard, and picking apart the flaws in Pitch Perfect, Santana decides to broach the subject that's been on her mind ever since she noticed the fresh hickey on Quinn's neck.

She probably wouldn't have noticed, as it's hidden under a layer of make up, but she'd rested her head on Quinn's shoulder a few minutes ago, and basically been eye level with it.

"Are you dating anyone?" Well that was smooth. Quinn slowly turns her head to stare at Santana.

"What?"

Santana backtracks quickly. "Look, you've got a massive love bite on your neck that you did a shitty job covering up, plus there was that one that you refused to talk about last month, and you've been, I dunno, like, weirdly happy the past few weeks. All that kinda points to you finally getting some. So yeah, are you dating anyone?"

Quinn just continues to stare at her, slowly chewing the piece of popcorn in her mouth. "Don't you think I would have told you if I was dating anyone?" She says. Except the way she says it, Santana doesn't quite believe her. She sounds too rehearsed, too calculated, too _Quinn,_ even for Quinn. _That didn't even make sense,_ Santana thinks to herself.

"Well are you?" Santana asks, stuffing an entire Dorito in her mouth to try and act disinterested. She's actually very interested. She wonders if the Mystery Love Biter is the same person for each one. Quinn's not really one to sleep around, and she's definitely not the type to do some kind of no strings attached arrangement. But if she is seeing someone, why would she keep it from Santana?

"No, I'm not." Quinn eventually says, but she doesn't look Santana in the eye. She pauses. "But I do like someone."

Well. Santana is not expecting _that_.

"You do? Who is he? Do I know him? Oh God it's not Finn again is it?" Santana fires a barrage of questions at her, determined to find out who Mystery Love Biter's real identity is.

She's about to start reeling off every guy they both know when Quinn laughs abruptly and stares back at the screen, grabbing another handful of popcorn. "No, it's definitely _not_ Finn. God Santana, I have _some_ class."

"Who is it?"

"I'm not telling you Santana. It's early. There's a lot of... Complications."

"What the hell do you mean _complications_? Does he not like you back or something? Does he have a girlfriend? She's probably hideous."

Quinn laughs again, munching on more of the popcorn. "The feelings are mutual, and there's no extra partners in the mix."

"So why can't you tell me? I'm your best friend you bitch." Santana ignores the small voice in the back of her head telling her that Quinn is none the wiser about the strange flirting limbo she and Brittany have fallen into.

"Santana, when I'm comfortable with this, you will be the first to know, I promise."

Santana doesn't bother to answer, opening a second bag of Doritos instead. She glances at Quinn out the corner of her eye and is about to mock the ridiculous lovestruck look on Quinn's face, when she realizes that's probably how she looks when she thinks or talks about Brittany.

God. Horrifying.

/

Thursday passes in a blur of paperwork and Brittany smiling shyly in Santana's direction, and deliberately brushing against her when they pass each other in the hallway.

Santana doesn't think about her Dad once.

/

Late Friday afternoon, Santana is sat in her office, finishing a call with Holly when the door opens and Brittany slides in, closing it behind her.

She motions for Brittany to hold on for a second, while she repeatedly tells Holly she has to go, and Holly continues yammering on about something. When she finally ends the call, she places the phone back on her desk and looks up expectandly at Brittany.

"Hey Britt, what's-"

"I think we need to set some earth rules."

Santana has no idea what Brittany is on about. " Earth rules? What?"

"Like general rules. The staff dinner is tonight, Santana." Oh. _Ground_ rules.

"I'm aware Brittany, strangely enough, I'll be there." The side of Santana's lips tug up into a half smirk as Brittany nervously fidgets in front of her. She's never seen the blond nervous before. She's normally so confident in her deliberate flirting with Santana. It's cute.

Brittany looks up from her twiddling thumbs – like she's literally twiddling her thumbs. _God can this girl get any more perfect?_ – and takes a deep breath.

"I know you said it meant nothing, but most of the time people just say something means nothing when it actually does mean something and they just don't want to admit it. Or maybe they can't admit it. But it doesn't really matter if if did mean anything or not, because my dress for tonight is blue. And tight. And strapless. And there will be alcohol..."

Santana is trying to keep up with Brittany's nervous rambling, but her brain pretty much short circuits at _tight and strapless. _

"Brittany, slow down." Attempting to get her thoughts back into slightly more appropriate territory than what it would be like to get Brittany out of said tight and strapless dress, Santana stands up from her desk and slowly walks over to where Brittany is leaning against the wood of the door. "What are you talking about?"

Brittany's gaze flicks down to Santana's lips briefly, and she tries to take a step back, seemingly forgetting she's already against the door. Santana gulps when she sees Brittany's eyes darken slightly.

"Britt?"

"Last weekend. When you said _it _meant nothing. Did you mean it?" Brittany asks lowly, not even bothering to try to hide the way her gaze shifts from Santana's eyes to her lips and back again.

She's not even the one essentially backed against a door here, but Santana gulps. "Why?"

"Because saying nothing almost always means that it's not nothing. And there will be alcohol there tonight. And I will be there in a dress. Did I mention it's strapless?"

Santana nods, her eyes trailing along the smooth skin of Brittany's neck and collarbone. Brittany's not bothering to hide her leering, why should she? "You did mention that. Mine is black and lacy and very short."

It suddenly seems very hot inside her office. She blames Brittany. As usual.

She's not exactly sure what they're doing. Heavy flirting, she guesses. Apparently Brittany had seen straight through her _it meant nothing_ bullshit last weekend.

Brittany closes her eyes and licks her lips, and Santana fights the urge to just fling herself at the girl.

Mmm, definitely flirting.

"Maybe we shouldn't get too drunk."

Santana snorts.

"Okay never mind. Let's just try not to look at each other too often. Or for too long."

"I think we both know that's kinda impossible. I'll definitely be breaking that rule." Santana murmurs, inching closer to Brittany. She can smell the faint, familiar perfume coming off the blond and it's starting to drive her insane, thinking about the last time Brittany was this close to her. Thankfully her office is a classier place that Rainbow's restrooms.

Then she catches sight of a pile of paperwork Quinn had gleefully dumped on her desk earlier, with a post it attached, the words _To: dumb slut _scrawled across it in Quinn's handwriting. And the fucking stuffed crab sitting on the cabinet next to them. Okay, maybe only slightly classier.

"We definitely shouldn't go to the bathroom together." Brittany speaks up again, her gaze fixated firmly on Santana's lips now.

"Definitely not." Santana echoes quietly, watching the way Brittany's eyes darken at her voice. Thank fuck for the year of smoking she had in college, she might die from lung cancer, but at least she'll sound sexy as hell calling Quinn a bitch one last time on her deathbed.

"Or really any enclosed space together." Brittany mumbles, and Santana can tell she's not really focused on talking anymore.

She;s about to think _fuck it_ and just kiss Brittany like they both want her to when there's a hammering on the door.

"Santana, hurry the hell up! We have to go home and get ready."

This is the second time in three days that Quinn fucking Fabray has cockblocked her. She's going to make her death slow and painful. Possibly make Rachel sing at the same time. So slow, painful, _and_ horribly fucking torturous.

Brittany's hands come up to rest on her shoulders as the blond pushes her away, putting a bit more space between them, and lowering the temperature of the room a few degrees.

Brittany smiles at Santana as she turns around, and places her hand on the door handle, before looking back at Santana. "Did I mention the lack of straps?"

Santana chuckles. "Several times actually. Do you think I won't be able to control myself, Miss. Pierce?"

Brittany unashamedly runs her eyes up and down the length of Santana's body. She's only wearing her usual work outfit, a black skirt with a purple blouse, but the look on Brittany's face makes her feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

"It's not you I'm worried about losing control." Brittany giggles at the stunned, and probably turned on look Santana is sure is on her face, and leans forward to whisper hotly in her ear, her breath brushing against Santana's cheek. "I'll see you tonight, Miss Lopez."

And then she's gone, slipping out the door and leaving Santana _exceedingly_ frustrated.

Santana wonders how much Quinn would shout at her if she insisted on a shower when they get home, because the stickiness between her legs is not going away anytime soon.

At least not on its own.

/

"Berry, I do not understand why the fuck you are even here. Somebody explain. Please."

Santana, Quinn and Rachel are all crammed into the bathroom in Santana and Quinn's apartment, all attempting to use the mirror to touch up their make up at the same time. Kurt is in the living room, singing along to the radio as he makes them all drinks.

"Santana, while I am aware that this is a staff dinner, neither Kurt nor Mercedes are part of your department, and yet you aren't questioning their presence."

"Kurt's fucking the French model and we hardly see Wheezy so she's a special exception."

"Kurt and Sebastian? What?" Quinn screeches, unfortunately right into Santana's right ear.

"God you're slow Fabray. Porcelain and Weaselface have been getting it on since Porcelain and Gayface broke up. One hell of a rebound. I mean, Kurt's claiming it's just sex, but let's be real, nobody's going to believe that crap."

She hears Kurt protest in the living room, but chooses to ignore him, going back to addressing Rachel. "Anyway, Mercedes is in town for the weekend, so we want to see her as much as possible, so of course she's invited. But you? I'm slightly at a loss as to why you're here. Don't you have like a convention for small rodents to attend or something? As the host?"

"_Santana_." Quinn snaps, waving a mascara wand in her direction. How threatening. As harmless as the mascara brush is, Quinn's fucking pointy elbows are pretty lethal. After Santana nearly loses and eye for a third time, she huffs, gives up, and storms out into the living room to get Kurt to do her make up for her.

He prattles on some shit about her pores, and moisturizing properly, but she tunes him out as she tries to imagine what Brittany will look like in her dress tonight. Tight, blue and strapless is a pretty good combination, but it's also a very vague description. There's lots of different shades of blue, lots of different styles and lengths of dresses.

Her own dress is slightly modest for her. The six inch heels she's topping it off with kind of class it down a little, but she doesn't give a fuck. They make her ass and legs look fucking phenomenal, and Santana is in the mood to tease the shit out of Brittany tonight. Brittany has done it to her often enough, it's time Santana gets a litle revenge. She's wearing a black dress that stops about mid thigh, and it's one of those dresses that the boobs upwards and the arms are all sheer lace. She'd perfected her just-fucked, gently tousled hair after a _very _cold shower, and Kurt is currently applying her eyeshadow, still squawking on about moisturizing.

In short, she looks hot as fuck. If she does say so herself.

The doorbell rings, and one of the two inside the bathroom answers the door. Judging from the shrieks and exclamations of _damn girl! _Rachel left Quinn and her pointy elbows in the bathroom to open the door.

Mercedes appears in Santana's eyeline just as Kurt finishes up with her eyeshadow. The usual greetings of _Satan!_ and _Wheezy!_ are exchanged, before Santana leaps on Mercedes for a hug.

"How you been girl? Soaking up all that fame in the City of Angels have you? You better not forget about us, bitch."

"Somehow I think you've managed to leave your mark on me Santana." Mercedes laughs, then rolls her eyes when Santana responds with a simple _wanky. _

The five of them have one or two of the odd concotion Kurt had made, quickly catching up with Mercedes, before calling a cab to drive them to the restaurant.

/

"I cannot believe Breadstix have opened a branch here. This is like all my wildest dreams coming true." Santana proclaims loudly as they walk into the familiar Italian restaurant.

"The Santana I remember's wildest dreams included an entire naked cheerleading team captained by Penelope Cruz and Megan Fox." Mercedes deadpans next to her, as Quinn talks to the door host about their reservation. "You don't mean to tell me someone has actually managed to tame Lima's Ladykiller?"

Santana snorts, and spouts off some ridiculous tale of girls never being able to say no to her. Which while true, it hasn't been recently. The last time Santana had gotten any action beside her own hand and the showerhead was that girl the night of the Hollidaze deal. She doesn't think she could bring herself to have sex with anyone that's not Brittany at this point. How sad. Whipped by a girl she's not even in a relationship with.

The waiter shows them to their table, and they promptly order three bottles of champagne. Santana's seat is facing the door, and as the rest of the staff of Lopez-Fabray Design begin to show up, she's trying not to let her head whip around every time she hears it open, waiting for the woman of her dreams to walk through. She rolls her eyes at herself, thinking shit like _woman of her dreams_. Clearly she's been spending too much time helping Quinn in the darkroom, the fucking chemicals have gone to her head.

/

Around 7pm, almost everyone is seated at the massive table. There's no sign of Brittany or Sam though. Just as Santana's about to nudge Quinn, who's sitting next to her, to ask if they're still coming, when Quinn's phone buzzes and lights up where it's sitting on the table in between them.

_Brittany Pierce  
iMessage_

Is illuminated against the background of a very drunk Santana, Quinn, Rachel and Kurt. She wishes Quinn would change her fucking background. She looks awful, Berry and Quinn look like a fucking couple and Kurt looks like the awkward gay guy tagging along with three lesbians. Like, a reverse form of hag. They look like the world's worst tribute to TaTu. Making a mental note to call Kurt Hagatha Christie at some point, she disregards Quinn's privacy and swipes at the screen, reading the text that pops up.

_Our bathroom ceiling started leaking, so Sam had to call a plum, although I'm not entirely sure what fruit has to do with anything. But we're on our way now, sorry we're late! X_

Santana feels her Brittany Smile start to spread across her face, but when Kurt, sitting the other side of her, coughs loudly and nudges her, raising his eyebrow at her, she wipes it off her face quickly. She pointedly ignores Kurt, instead choosing to butt in on Quinn and Rachel's conversation, until he turns back to Sebastian.

She hears the door jingle, and out of half hour habit, she glances over at the door, and her jaw nearly smashes into the table.

Santana's first thought when she sees Brittany isn't really coherent. Her second is that Brittany looks _stunning. _Sam looks pretty good in his suit and all as he walks in after Brittany, but Santana, being gay as an all male production of Rent, barely notices him. She knows she's staring, and she knows she should probably stop before Quinn or Kurt catch her drooling into her wine glass over her employee, but it's kind of difficult to drag her gaze away from Brittany.

When she and Sam reach the table Santana vaguely hears Mercedes ask Kurt who the cute blond guy is and what team he plays for, and she vaguely hears Brittany apologizing for being late, and then a menu is thrust under her nose, and Kurt's lips are by her ear.

"If I didn't suspect something before, I certainly do now. Try to keep your leering to a minimum San."

His voice shocks her out of her Brittany-haze, and she avoids looking at Brittany, who is now sitting directly opposite her, Sam to her right, instead focusing very intently on the range of pastas Breadstix offers.

"Hey San."

Santana gulps, and hopes she doesn't look as flustered as she feels when she lowers the menu to say hello back to Brittany. She sees, and also feels, Brittany's eyes slide down her face, past her lips, down her neck and onto the lace covered top of her chest. Brittany pouts slightly, presumably at the lack of cleavage the dress shows off, but Santana figures Brittany will enjoy it enough when she stands up.

Santana then spies Quinn's phone still lying next to her, and with Brittany still watching her, she clicks open the phone, and scrolls through Quinn's contacts until she reaches _P._ Tugging her own phone out of her bag, she quickly copies Brittany's number into the recipient box of her own phone, types out a message, and presses send before she can think about what she's doing.

Brittany's phone buzzes on the other side of the table and she watches, biting her lip nervously as Brittany unlocks her own phone and reads the message Santana just sent her. The faint pink blush that seeps into Brittany's cheeks makes something in Santana's chest feel all warm and fuzzy. She blames the three glasses of champagne she's had for that _ridiculous_ thought.

Her phone buzzes in front of her, and she looks down at her own background, an actually nice photo of her and Quinn.

_Britt  
iMessage_

Is blinking up at her, and she opens the message, reading the single two texts on her Brittany text log, before smiling like a complete idiot.

_-You look stunning._

_Not as beautiful as you.-_

The two women just smile idiotically at each other until the waiter comes to take their order.

/

The first brush against her ankle after the starters are taken away, Santana barely feels. She assumes Kurt's foot accidentally bumped her or something. The second brush is slightly firmer, but she still has no idea what it is, just passes it off as Kurt being fidgety.

When the third brush up the entire length of her bare calf happens as she's mid conversation with Brittany, the smirk that appears on the blond's face just before Santana feels it, tells her that it was _definitely_ not Kurt.

Santana pauses mid-sentence, watching in disbelief as Brittany settles back in her chair, raises a singular eyebrow, and takes a slow sip of her wine. Her eyes bore into Santana's over the rim of the glass as what she now realizes is Brittany's foot slides back down her calf.

She's tempted to locate her phone to text Brittany a _fucking tease_, but a flurry of waiters reappear with their main courses, and Brittany is suitably distracted from torturing Santana by the giant bowl of shrimp placed in front of her.

Thank God.

/

Of course, once the main courses are finished and cleared away, and they're waiting for dessert, Brittany gets right back to it. She's talking to Sebastian about a photoshoot, and Santana takes the opportunity to have a gulp of her third glass of wine, when Brittany slides her foot back over, brushing against her ankle, before running it lightly up the back of Santana's calf.

The combination of alcohol that's starting to fuzz the edges of her vision and the fact that Brittany has somehow managed to work her up with a few fucking touches from her foot, has made Santana's skin even more sensitive. She nearly chokes on her wine, thankfully managing to gulp it down without spraying it all over Quinn. It's red wine, and Quinn's dress is white. Quinn loves her and all, but the dress is Chanel.

Quinn gives her a weird look, but mostly ignores her and continues listening with rapt attention to whatever Rachel is blabbering on about. Kurt is trying to stifle a snigger next to her, and she kicks him under the table. Ignoring his protests, she stands up, announcing she has to use the restroom. She feels a smug sense of satisfcation at the way Brittany's eyes fall immediately to her barely covered legs, and as she's walking away from the table she deliberately puts an extra sway into her hips.

Just as she reaches the door to the ladies, she turns around to catch Brittany's eye. The look the blond is sending her is enough to make her shiver, even halfway across a very busy restaurant. Then Brittany smirks, and winks at her, and again, even across a fucking crowded restaurant, Brittany still manages to make Santana weak at the knees with a simple look.

Resigning herself to the rest of dinner and the inevitabel trip to Puckerman's afterward in a constant state of arousal, she turns around and spushes the door open.

/

She actually did need to pee, and she's washing her hands at the sink when the door bangs open behind her. She briefly glances up in the mirror to see who it is, and freezes. Of fucking course it would be Brittany. Who else?

Brittany leans against the door, crossing her arms across her chest, and just watches as Santana finishes washing her hands, before reaching for a paper towel to dry them with. She chucks in it in the trash can, and looks up to meet Brittany's stare in the mirror.

"You're breaking our rules, Britt. We can't be alone together in the restroom, or any other enclosed spaces."

Brittany ignores her, and just stares at her a little longer, her dark eyes locked onto Santana's. Good to know Santana wasn't the only one affected by Brittany's little game at the table. Eventually, Brittany pushes off the door and stalks slowly towards Santana, their eye contact in the mirror never breaking.

She stops when she's right behind Santana, her left hand coming down to rest against the countertop, effectively half trapping Santana against it. Santana can feel the heat from the other woman's body start to flood into her own, and she feels herself get a little bit wetter when Brittany brings her right hand up to brush Santana's hair away from her left shoulder.

It's ridiculous, the way Brittany affects her body. She can totally calm her down from a Lima Heights Rage one minute, then work her up into a horny mess the next. Ridiculous.

Brittany shifts slightly closer,moving her right hand down to rest on the countertop, trapping Santana between her body at the sinks. Santana desperately tries to hold back a whimper, but the look in Brittany's eyes makes her think Brittany knows exactly how she's affecting her.

She closes her eyes, afraid of what she'll do – _or what she'll say _– if she looks into Brittany's any longer.

"You were going to kiss me earlier, weren't you? In your office?"

Santana's eyes fly open again and she stares at Brittany wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak.

Brittany breaks the eye contact, watching herself slowly trace her right pointer finger down Santana's arm. "You could've, you know. It's not like I would have stopped you." Her finger reaches the end of Santana's arm, and she splays her fingers over Santana's, in a strange, backwards sort of hand-hold. She makes eye contact with Santana again. "I wanted you to."

Santana can feel her heartbeat thumping simultaneously in her chest and between her legs, and she wonders how long they've been in the restroom for. Kurt would be getting the wrong idea, if Santana's right about him possibly knowing, and Quinn would probably get suspicious if they were gone for much longer.

"If I'm being honest, Santana, I'd probably have let you do whatever you wanted to me right then." Santana's heart just about stops. Brittany's switched to her left hand, trailing her pointer and middle finger down Santana's arm, slower than the other one.

"And if you're being honest Santana, did you really mean what you said last weekend? That it didn't mean anything?" Santana gulps. She still doesn't trust herself to speak, but she can't lie to Brittany. She slowly shakes her head. Brittany smiles. Like, a genuine, Santana-caused beam, rather than the seductive half smirk she'd been pinning Santana with for most of the evening. Santana isn't sure which one she likes better.

"You know I've thought about it before. You and I." The smirk that places itself back on Brittany's face confirms Santana's silent question of what particular activities they're engaging in during Brittany's, probably very graphic daydreams.

"My favorite one is when you fuck me on your desk."

Jesus Christ, Santana is not expecting _that_. This time the whimper does make it out of her mouth, and Brittany smirks even more, pressing her body fully against Santana's back. Santana lets out another low groan at the feeling of Brittany's breasts pressing into her back.

Santana's eyes shut, and her head falls back against Brittany's shoulder as the blond gently presses a kiss to the back of Santana's neck, juts above the lace's hem.

"I bet you look so beautiful when you come Santana."

"Mmf, _fuck_, Britt..." Santana whimpers. She knows her underwear are ruined now, and dessert is going to be slightly uncomfortable.

"I'd make you come so fucking hard. How would you want to do it? Around my fingers? Around my tongue?" Santana just groans in response to Brittany's filthy questions. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life, and Brittany's barely even touching her, just leaning against her.

"I can never decide which I want more when you're screaming my name, to feel you clenching around my fingers, or to taste you." Brittany continues on in her low whisper, as conversationally as if she's discussing the fucking weather. Weekend forecast: high amounts of sexual frustration, with a 100% chance of getting wet.

Santana groans to try and get awful weather jokes out of her head, and she feels Brittany open her mouth to speak again when there's a knock on the door, and they leap apart a second before a slightly drunk Tina opens the door.

"Hey, there you are. Dessert just got served." Thank fuck for Dom Perignon, otherwise Tina would probably have noticed Santana's labored breathing, and Brittany's flushed face and chest.

Tina leaves, the door swinging shut behind her, and the tension spikes higher in the small room. Thankfully it's not an awkward tension. Just a ridiculously sexual one that Santana could cut with a knife.

"Britt-" Santana finally manages to get out around trying to control her breathing.

Brittany holds a finger up to her lips. "You can't say this is nothing anymore. I didn't believe you last week and I won't believe you now. You can pretend you don't want me, but we both know that's a big lie." Santana wasn't actually going to say that, but she nods anyway, because Brittany is right.

They're probably going to have to have a slightly awkward talk at some point, but for now, the mutual attraction has been acknowledged and that's enough for Santana. She's not entirely sure she's ready to inform Brittany of the small fact that she's falling in love with her.

Brittany turns as if to walk back towards the door, but pauses halfway, before walking back to Santana. Santana thinks she's going to kiss her, but instead Brittany places her lips by her ear and murmurs _I bet you'd taste so good, by the way_. And the heat that Santana had managed to get out her body is back again at full temperature.

Fantastic.

She watches Brittany slide out the restroom door, and sighs.

Santana's not in love with Brittany. Not yet.

But she could be. She could fall in love with Brittany. It'd be so easy to fall in love with her.

And that's the part that scares the shit out of Santana.


	9. Chapter Nine

OKAY, I know I said this would be up on Monday, that was the original plan, but I accidentally deleted my ENTIRE documents folder whilst transferring all my files from my old broken laptop to my nice shiny new macbook.

My entire story outline, and each chapter outline got deleted, so it took me a while to redo everything.

If it helps, the VIP room scene wasn't in my original outline for this chapter, so consider that an apology for the wait :P

As always, thank you for the reviews/PMs/favourites :)

In fic rec times, I highly suggested you go and read The Echoes of My Everything by houseofballoons :) It's a so far canon story about Brittany finding out about Quinntana, and it's fantastic.

In fic pimping times, if you're still not reading Never Knew I Needed by justsomebrittanagleek, even after my rambling on about it in previous A/Ns, then go do it now :)

I'll shut up now, hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

Santana will probably never be able to look at chocolate cake the same way again.

Even after she splashes cold water onto her face in the bathroom, her body still feels like it's on fire as she walks back towards the table, pointedly avoiding Brittany's heated stare. Sitting back down, she digs into the gigantic vanilla sundae she's ordered, and thankfully the ice cream begins to cool her down slightly.

It's not really helping the fact her underwear are still soaked however, and every movement she makes sends a jolt of pleasure through her. Jesus Christ, this is going to be the most wonderfully painful dessert Santana has ever had.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she glances down to see Brittany's name flashing across the screen. Santana looks up, but Brittany's not even looking in her direction, she's deep in conversation with Sam. Her phone is clutched in her left hand though, Santana notices.

She debates whether or not to open the text, since it's probably something incredibly dirty that'll just get her going again. Or get her going even _more_, technically. Giving in to the temptation, not that she put up much of a fight, she swipes the little bar to open the text.

_My dessert would probably taste a lot better if I could lick it off you._

Santana tries, and probably fails, to keep her expression blank as she raises her gaze to the plate in front of Brittany. She then desperately tries to block out the images that assault her mind of Brittany licking chocolate sauce and whipped cream off her body, her very naked body, but judging from the smirk Brittany is now shooting at her, she's not being very subtle.

Brittany glances down at her lap, and a few seconds later Santana's phone buzzes again.

_Although I still think you would taste better._

She bites her lip to stop the whimper coming out, and shifts awkwardly in her seat, feeling her underwear get even wetter.

Definitely the most painful dessert of Santana's life.

/

Santana's not sure who, but somebody suggests going to a bar – for a change – after they finish their dessert, and that is how she finds herself in Puckerman's Bar, sitting in the big corner booth, wedged between Rachel and Ryder. Rachel is eyeing the eight shot glasses in the middle of the table, looking slightly worried.

"Could somebody please explain to me again, what is the point of this game?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "To get drunk. It's kinda the point of alcohol in general, in case you didn't realize that, Hobbit."

Rachel keeps peering at the shot glasses; looking at them as if she's worried they're going to jump up at her, and possibly inform her of Barbra Streisand's untimely demise. "And what's in them again?"

"Tequila, vodka, Malibu, gin, peach schnapps, rum, Sambuca or water. Now get a move on and pick your glass Berry."

Rachel reaches forward and places her cards on the table, gingerly picking up one of the shot glasses, as Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, Sam, Ryder, Kurt and Quinn do the same.

There's ten of them left, including Sebastian and Unique, and they're playing some strange drinking card game that involves a lot of shots. According to Ryder, each person gets dealt two cards, and the two that have the highest cards don't have to drink, and the other eight have to do a shot of whatever they're unlucky enough to get. Or lucky, if you get the water one. All the shots look the same, as they're all filled with a clear liquid.

Santana curses Puck for having such a well stocked bar. She hates Sambuca, and tequila gets her very drunk very quickly, so she's hoping she hasn't gotten either of them.

"One, two, three, go!" Sebastian counts them down, and they all throw the shots back.

Santana represses the urge to throw up as the Sambuca hits the back of her throat. Fabulous. She groans in distaste, grabbing at her glass sitting on the table and taking a massive gulp of it. Washing down a shot with another alcoholic drink is probably not the best idea when she has to go to the studio at 1pm tomorrow to meet with Quinn and Holly, but at the moment, she needs the distraction from all the bare skin Brittany's dress shows off. Cause there's a lot of it. And Santana is only human.

Quinn and Kurt both immediately reach for their glasses as well, Quinn ranting about Malibu, and Kurt moaning about rum. Sam cheers, evidently having gotten the water, and Brittany licks her lips, presumably having gotten peach schnapps. Mercedes groans opposite Santana where she's sitting next to Sam, replying to his question of what she got with a gasped _gin. _Ryder and Rachel splutter and start coughing either side of her, and she turns to laugh at Rachel's screwed up face.

"Tequila?" Quinn laughs from the other side of Berry, and Rachel shakes her head, finally succeeding in swallowing the shot.

"Vodka. Oh my God, this game is awful. I vote we play a different one. Please. One that does not involve shots. They are not good for my vocal chords!"

Rachel's rambling is interrupted by Puck appearing at the entrance to the booth. He's carrying a tray with a pint glass in the middle of it, surrounded by what Santana suspects are jager bombs.

"Anyone care for a game of Ring of Fire? I just finished my shift and the Puckzilla is ready to party!"

"Ring of Fire? Jager bombs? You do realize we're not in high school anymore, don't you Puckerman?" Santana sarcastically snips at him.

He just rolls his eyes, ignoring her, and starts to distribute the jager bombs.

"What's Ring of Fire?" Rachel pipes up from next to her.

Jesus Christ.

/

Santana is supposed to be an adult. She is 24, not 18. She has her own design studio, as she is _no longer a student_.

Half an hour into Ring of Fire, Santana realizes that this is probably a very bad idea when, next to her, having barged in between her and Ryder, Puck picks up the eight of spades, and shouts that it stands for Never Have I Ever.

Never Have I Ever and Santana do not have a good relationship. Considering how much Puck, Quinn and Kurt know about her, and certain things she's done, they mostly like to use Never Have I Ever as a chance to gang up on her, and embarrass the shit out of her. Great.

Each of them holds three fingers up, and Santana quickly thinks of something to say. "Never have I ever… Kissed a girl." She goes with one of the obvious ones, and everyone except Sebastian and Unique put a finger down.

Santana and Puck whip their heads round to stare at Quinn. "Since when do you play for my team Fabray?" Santana asks, slightly curious. She doesn't recall Quinn ever actually gaying it up, despite the many jokes she makes about it.

"You could always demonstrate for us, Quinn." Puck says, waggling his eyebrows. Santana smacks him on the arm and turns back to Quinn, who shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"There were a lot of parties in college, okay. We didn't go to every single one together, you know." Well this is certainly interesting.

"I know something you two _should_ do together." Puck butts in again, laughing at the unamused expression on Quinn's face.

"Okay! Moving on!" Rachel squeaks suddenly. "Never have I ever… Eaten meat."

Santana groans, forgetting about Quinn's sashay into lesbianism, as everyone except Rachel puts another finger down. "That is a fucking awful one, Berry."

"Not everything has to have sexual connotations, Santana, I was merely-"

Santana cuts her off. "Please stop talking, hearing you go on about sex will probably put me off it forever."

As soon as the words are out of her mouth she regrets them. She glances across the table, and sure enough, Brittany is staring right at her, an eyebrow raised, as if to say _yeah fucking right_. Santana had hoped once they left the restaurant, and walked the few blocks it took to get to the bar, that her arousal might have been slightly tampered, but nope, she's still just as turned on as she was in the bathroom, with Brittany pressed against her, whispering in her- _This isn't helping._

Santana blinks, trying to get herself out of her lusty haze, and tries to focus on Quinn, who's trying to think of something.

"Never have I ever… Kissed anyone sat at this table."

Everybody except Sam puts a finger down, and Brittany and Santana realize a second too late what Brittany's done.

"Wait, Brittany, who have you kissed here?" Santana freezes, mid-reach for her drink. She'd hoped no one would question it. Fucking Unique. Couldn't she have kept her trap shut?

There's a very awkward pause as everyone looks towards Brittany, whose eyes go slightly wide once she realizes what she's implied.

"She's kissed me." Santana blinks, thinking for a second that she'd actually lost control of her mouth for a second and that had slipped out, but her voice is not that high pitched. Everyone's eyes switch to Kurt, as he shrugs nonchalantly and takes a sip of his drink. "It was that Hollidaze celebration night, she tried to kiss my cheek but missed completely. I was certainly shocked, but then she informed me she had just had shots, so her aim was off."

Santana quickly glances at Brittany's face, and judging from the look on it, Kurt's story is a complete lie, but thankfully everyone seems to be buying it. She tunes Puck grumbling about _why does the gay dude get to kiss the hot chick_ to look at Kurt. She gives him the briefest of nods, silently thanking him for saving their asses. He raises his eyebrows at her as he takes another sip of his wildly fruity looking drink, and she knows she's going to have to talk to him soon.

And she will. Just not now. Now, she reaches forward to pick up a card, turning it over to reveal the king of diamonds. Which happens to be the fourth king, as Puck loudly reminds her. Meaning she has to drink the entire pint glass of… Everything, sitting in front of her. Fabulous.

/

Apparently Holly has gotten wind of their little staff dinner, and calls Quinn at about 9.30pm, inviting them to the opening of some fancy club called The Institute in the Upper East Side. Quinn reminds her that they have a meeting at 1pm the next day, but Holly waves it off, saying she wants them there.

And well, what Holly Holliday wants, Holly Holliday gets.

So a slightly expensive cab ride later, the eleven of them arrive at the club. Santana vaguely recognizes Holly's bodyguard Dave at the door, and he nods at them, before letting them through, loud protests coming from the gigantic queue. Holly is lurking just inside the building, and she immediately swoops down, welcoming them loudly, and ushering them through into a private booth next to the bar.

A bottle of champagne arrives, and the group dissolves into mindless chatter, attempting to hear each other over the DJ.

/

Ten minutes later, Kurt, Sebastian, Quinn and Rachel have all disappeared onto the dancefloor, Ryder and Unique are cuddled up opposite Santana, Sam is busy flirting with Mercedes, and Puck has already disappeared with one of Holly's friends. Santana has to give him credit, he works fast.

Brittany had tapped her on the shoulder a few minutes ago, asking if she wanted a drink from the bar. Santana had asked for vodka and lemonade, and tried to ignore the way Brittany's eyes didn't leave her lips. She probably should have asked for a soft drink, since her vision is getting slightly fuzzy at the edges, and Brittany is already affecting her ability to think straight. Alcohol isn't going to help with that.

A few seconds later, Brittany slides back into the space next to her, sitting very close. As in, close enough that Santana would only have to shift a few centimetres to the left and their bare thighs would be touching. She would shuffle over to the right, but there's the small matter of the wall being there.

"Here you go." Brittany cheerfully says, handing Santana her drink.

Before Santana can reply, Unique is waving a hand in their direction. She says something about Ryder and her leaving, due to Ryder having an early shift at Starbucks the next day, but Santana's brain short circuits about three words in, as Brittany drops her right hand under the table to rest on Santana's bare knee.

Brittany smiles at them, saying goodbye, and Santana somehow manages to squeak out a goodbye before they leave, and it's just Sam, Mercedes, Santana and Brittany left in the booth. Evidently all of Holly's friends are hard partyers, as they're all out on the dancefloor.

Sam and Mercedes are all wrapped up in each other at the other end of the booth, and Santana's breath hitches as Brittany's hand slides slightly further up her leg.

"What are you doing?" She eventually manages to get out, trying not to give in to the desire pumping through her veins.

Brittany giggles into her ear, and it's only then that Santana realizes Brittany has angled her body so that she's almost entirely facing Santana, and she switches her right hand for her left, dragging her fingers from Santana's knee to the hem of her dress, before flattening her palm against Santana's overheated skin. She flings her right arm across the top of the booth, trapping Santana into the corner and shielding her other hand's ministrations to any nosey onlookers.

"Whatever you want me to do." Brittany eventually replies, her voice low as she smirks and stares at Santana. Santana has no idea what's gotten into Brittany tonight, causing her to be queen of seduction rather than her usual goofy self – that can turn Santana on just as much, however – but she doesn't really care. Not when Brittany's fingers are gently rubbing against the inside of her thigh, and Brittany's gaze is dropping to her lips, and Brittany's eyes are getting darker and darker.

Santana can't help the shiver that runs through her body as Brittany licks her lips and shuffles even closer, the skin of their bare thighs brushing together.

Santana is used to being the one doing the seducing, not the one being seduced. She isn't used to being at someone's mercy, which is essentially what she's been every time her and Brittany have kissed. In the printer room, she might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but Brittany was the one holding her against the door. In Rainbow, she was completely helpless to Brittany. In Breadstix's bathroom, she was basically powerless against Brittany's dirty words.

Even the simple flirting, Brittany always manages to get her worked up with a well-placed smirk, or wink, occasionally accompanied by a few _select_ words.

Santana is used to being the one in control. Of everything, of the girls she's slept with, of the boys she slept with in high school, of her _feelings_. But being with Brittany… Wanting her so much just makes her feel completely out of control. It's terrifying.

Brittany has just said she'll do whatever Santana wants, and what Santana wants is the upper hand, just for once.

So she finishes her drink and grabs Brittany's hand, tugging it off her thigh and tangling their fingers together. "What I want, is for you to meet me in the VIP room in five minutes." She leans forward and breathes into Brittany's ear. She lets her lips brush against Brittany's soft cheek as she pulls back, hearing the blond inhale sharply, and stands up.

Mercedes and Sam look up at her as she steps past Brittany and moves to leave the booth. "Just going to the bathroom." She lies, and they buy it, returning their attention to each other.

/

Holly had mentioned the VIP room wasn't fully finished, and therefore was off limits to the public, but Santana ignores the No Entry sign as she pushes open the door marked VIP, a few meters away from the female restroom.

The room isn't massive, there's a small bar running across the back wall, and there's a huge TV mounted opposite a comfy looking couch that runs along the wall to the right of the door. A few cushiony seats are stacked up below the TV. She figures if any of the staff come in here, she can just claim to know Holly, who seems to be a big deal for this particular club. Hopefully she won't like, get arrested or something.

She strolls behind the bar, picking up a glass and filling it with lemonade. She takes a quick drink, attempting to sober herself up slightly. Despite the large amount of alcohol she's consumed tonight, the wine and champagne at dinner, and then the horrific King's Cup, which had been mostly rum, she doesn't actually feel _that_ drunk. She definitely feels slightly dizzy, and her vision is still blurring slightly around the edges, but she blames the former on Brittany, and the latter on the alcohol.

The door squeaks open, and Brittany appears in the room. "The door says No Entry. I don't think we're allowed to be here, San."

Santana places her glass back down on the bar, and walks slowly towards Brittany, deliberately swaying her hips more than usual. "No, we probably aren't." She keeps walking once she reaches Brittany, backing her up against the door. "But I just wanted to get you alone. And I figured we kinda have to stop meeting in bathrooms all the time."

Brittany gasps slightly when her back hits the door, and Santana leans forward, placing her hands on the door either side of Brittany's head. Her six inch heels, and Brittany's smaller ones, means that they're almost the same height, a fact Santana is glad for when she doesn't have to lean up to whisper in Brittany's ear.

"So Britt," She says, revelling in the way Brittany shivers when her breath hits skin. "You said you'd do whatever I want, a promise I plan on taking full advantage of at some point, but at the moment, I want to know what _you_ want."

Santana presses her lips against Brittany's neck, just below her ear, and she feels Brittany's hands land on her hips, tugging her closer until their bodies are flush together. _God_, Brittany feels good. She drags her lips down Brittany's neck until she reaches a hammering pulse point. Opening her mouth against the overheated skin, Santana sucks gently on Brittany's neck, smirking when she hears Brittany moan her name.

Brittany's groans louder when Santana drags her teeth across her pulse point, before kissing her neck again and raising her head slightly. She brushes her nose against Brittany's, staring into her eyes, before asking her _what do you want, Brittany_ again.

"You." Brittany whimpers instantly, her breath hitting Santana's lips and her hands sliding up Santana's back to tangle in her hair. She tries to tug Santana's head forward to connect their lips, but Santana holds firm.

"What do you want me to do?" She whispers, letting her lips brush against Brittany's for the briefest of seconds.

Brittany whimpers again, letting her head fall back against the door, her eyes shutting. "God, I want- _You_, Santana, I want you. Kiss me, _please." _She moans, again trying to tug Santana's face closer.

"Say it again." Santana isn't one of those really arrogant people who need to hear how much someone wants them – okay, maybe she is slightly – hearing a girl begging for it just really turns her on. But she isn't prepared for how much _Brittany_ moaning that she wants her turns her on. She's been in a constant high-strung state of arousal since the bathroom at Breadstix, and now she finally has Brittany alone, she can actually do something about it.

Bringing her hands down slightly to wind around Brittany's neck, she crashes her lips onto Brittany's.

Brittany moans against Santana, kissing back immediately, sliding her tongue along Santana's bottom lip until she opens her mouth, and Brittany's tongue slides inside and brushes against hers. _Fuck,_ Brittany is such a good kisser.

"I've been wanting to do this since I saw you." Santana breaks the kiss momentarily to gasp into Brittany's mouth, and Brittany doesn't even bother answering, she just tugs Santana's lips back to her own, her whole body quaking as Santana pushes her tongue past Brittany's lips and into her mouth.

Santana doesn't think she'll ever get tired of kissing Brittany. The blond tastes _so_ good, and she feels amazing pressed up against her. Santana knows her underwear are completely ruined, but the way Brittany's hips have started to rock into her makes her suspect Brittany's are probably just the same.

She's about to move her lips to attack Brittany's throat again when the blond jerks forward, pushing Santana back towards the couch. Santana realizes where this is going, and not willing to give up the power just yet, she spins them around and pushes at Brittany's shoulders until the blond topples down – slightly inelegantly, but Santana still thinks it's cute, even through her haze of lust – on the sofa.

Brittany's hands are still on her hips, and they urge her closer as she clambers onto Brittany's lap. Santana nearly moans at the heated look being directed her way as she straddles Brittany, and then she actually does moan when Brittany's hands slide from her hips to her ass, squeezing at it through the lace of her dress.

"Brittany, _fuck_." She gasps out, before leaning down and kissing Brittany again.

Brittany bites her bottom lip, and she groans, the blond beneath her taking advantage by kissing her on the cheek sweetly, before nudging at her jaw with her nose until Santana tips her head back, and Brittany starts pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses all over Santana's neck. Brittany licks and bites and kisses at every inch of Santana's throat and as much of the top of her chest that her dress will allow.

Brittany's hands have stopped pawing at her ass, instead sliding about halfway up her body, and inwards slightly so they're resting on Santana's sides rather than her back. She can feel Brittany's hands clenching against her, and she knows what Brittany wants to do, where Brittany wants to touch her, and frankly, she wants it too.

And since apparently her professionalism doesn't exist on Friday nights, she squashes the – very tiny, she has to admit – voice in the back of her head yelling about Brittany still being her employee, and loosens her hands from Brittany's hair, bringing them down to cover Brittany's.

Brittany shudders against her, and groans loudly when Santana brings their joined hands up to her chest, before returning her own hands into Brittany's hair, holding the blond against her. _Like she's going anywhere_, Santana thinks briefly.

Any and all thoughts she's still capable of having fly out the window when Brittany squeezes at her breasts, first gently, and then rougher.

"God I love your boobs." Brittany whimpers out, abandoning Santana's neck to press their lips together again.

Santana knows her chest is probably one of her best assets, and okay, they might not be fully hers, but they're still pretty fucking great and she knows it. She's had a lot of girls – and Puck – verbally appreciate her chest, from _fuck me your boobs are amazing_, to the likes of _Jesus Christ your tits are big_. Her previous favorite had been _holy shit your tits are fucking mint mate_, from that hot British girl she slept with, but obviously, Brittany's simple appreciation surpasses them all.

Santana can feel her rock hard nipples rubbing against the inside of her bra, and Brittany attempts to pinch at them, but the material of her dress, plus the bra means that she can only slightly feel it. She wishes she were wearing less clothes, and obviously Brittany feels the same, if the _you're wearing too much_ she mumbles against Santana's lips is any indication.

If they weren't still in a very busy club, behind a door that didn't lock, in a room they're not even supposed to be in, Santana's pretty sure she'd happily strip for Brittany. She has never wanted to feel another person's bare skin against her own so much before in her life. Their bare thighs rubbing together don't count, she wants Brittany naked, and she wants Brittany naked _now_.

Brittany breaks their kiss, just panting against Santana's lips as she keeps squeezing and massaging at the boobs filling her hands. Santana can hardly think, can barely breathe, each squeeze against her chest sending another jolt of pleasure through her body. She doesn't know if it's actually possible to come without being touched, but she can feel herself getting wound tighter and tighter.

Brittany leans back against the back of the sofa, and looks up, her dark blue eyes boring deep into Santana's. Santana desperately tries to keep her eyes open, leaning forward and grabbing onto the back of the sofa to keep herself balanced as Brittany keeps groping at her chest.

They're both still fully clothed, and all Brittany's doing is grabbing at her boobs, but Santana thinks this is one of the most intimate moments she's ever had. There's a look in Brittany's eyes that she can't name, one buried underneath the lust and want emanating from the blond below her.

Or maybe she just doesn't want to name it, because she's pretty sure Brittany will be able to see it in her own eyes as well.

Santana has to break the eye contact before she blurts out something she's still not ready for, so she grabs at Brittany's hands and tugs them away from her chest, pulling them behind her until they're back on her ass, and she pounces on Brittany again, licking her way into her mouth until the blond is moaning.

Santana tangles her fingers in Brittany's hair again, pulling her head back so Santana has access to her throat. Brittany's dress doesn't have the same limitations as Santana's, so she happily kisses down Brittany's neck, sliding her tongue along her collarbone, biting at her pulse point.

Santana kisses the top of Brittany's breasts, sucking at the skin there until she can see a slight bruise start to form. Love bites might be so ridiculously high school, but they're fucking hot, so. Plus Brittany seems to like it, whimpering Santana's name and digging her fingers into her ass.

"Santana," Brittany whimpers. "_Please._"

"Please what, Britt Britt?" Santana murmurs, licking a stripe across the breast not marked by her. Ooh, she likes the thought of that. Marking Brittany. As hers. Only hers. Okay, not sober enough to think about that, never mind.

"Please, just, _oh God_. Touch me Santana, _please._" Santana feels the throbbing between her legs increase slightly as she brings her hands up to Brittany's chest, cupping a breast in each hand and squeezing gently.

Fuck. How is it possible for Brittany to be so fucking perfect in every single way? Santana is a boob girl, through and through, and Brittany's are spectacular, fitting into her hands perfectly. And this is _with_ a dress covering them. God.

Unlike Santana, Brittany isn't wearing a bra, so when Santana feels the nipples start to harden against her palms, she doesn't hesitate to pinch and rub at them. Brittany groans, her head falling back, and as Santana is kissing her way back to the love bite; it hits her that Brittany's dress is strapless. As in, no pesky dress or bra straps to get in the way. As in, she could tug the front of Brittany's dress down and she'd have free access to all of Brittany's perfect tits.

She knows Brittany won't mind, probably wants her to anyway, and she's literally a second away from yanking the dress down to wrap her lips around a nipple when the door flies open.

"Oh shit, so-sorry! Wrong door!" The wide-eyed blond girl quickly backs out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Santana is frozen, her head still right in front of Brittany's heaving chest, and the random girl bursting in on them has broken the bubble they were in. Santana can hear the noise of the club just outside again, the low bass of whatever song is playing with the occasional whoop or yell from people in the corridor outside.

She can feel the panic start to set in. Sure it was just some drunk girl looking for the bathroom, but it could just have easily been Kurt, or Sam, or Rachel. Or Quinn. Oh God, Quinn could have walked in on her best friend straddling their golden employee. _Oh God_.

Brittany's hands are suddenly either side of her face, tugging her up until they're looking at each.

"Santana, baby, it's okay. Don't panic, please."

Santana's heart stutters – _baby _– and she smiles despite the panic she can still feel lurking at the edge of her arousal. She didn't know how Brittany had known she was about to start freaking out, but she did, and she's thankful for the gentle kisses Brittany is now pressing all over her cheeks, chasing the fear away.

"I'm, Britt, okay stop it, I'm okay." She giggles when Brittany kisses her on the nose and leans back, smiling up at her with a goofy smile. "Uh, I guess we got a bit carried away. Forgot there were, you know, people outside."

"That good, am I?" Brittany asks with a cocky smirk, and Santana rolls her eyes, leaning back down.

"You're alright, I guess." She playfully replies, before kissing Brittany gently. Okay they really need to get out of the club, or at least find somewhere secluded, or a room with a lock, because Santana _really_ wants to keep kissing Brittany, but it's likely someone will walk in on them again. And it could be someone they know this time.

But Brittany's lips are so fucking addictive, and she goes to pull away, but Brittany follows, kissing her until she opens her mouth, Brittany's tongue delving inside. She groans, sliding her hands to Brittany's head, her left hand tangling in soft blond hair, the other resting on the back of a warm neck.

She tries to push her tongue into Brittany's mouth, and Brittany just sucks on it, and Santana groans and her hips jerk uncontrollably, because _fuck_ she's always thought that was hot. It just reignites her lust and she forgets all about the club full of people, including her friends, again as she attacks Brittany's lips.

Brittany gasps against the sudden onslaught of kisses, and Santana feels hands on her ass again, tugging her closer, and she starts rocking into Brittany slightly. The angle means that she's not getting a huge amount of friction where she wants it, but Brittany's whimpers and moans are spurring her on enough.

"Ugh, Santana, I want- _God_, I want-" Brittany cuts herself off with a moan as Santana kisses up to her ear, sucking on the lobe before whispering into her ear.

"What do you want Brittany?" Fuck, she barely recognizes her own voice. She's never heard herself sound so… Well, turned on, before.

"_Fuck_, I-" Santana bites at the lobe, although she can't really help herself, hearing Brittany swear in her slightly high pitched breathy voice is hot as hell.

"Take me home, Santana." Santana freezes. "Please." Brittany whimpers, squeezing at Santana's ass again.

She ignores Brittany trying to kiss her again, and pulls back slightly, waiting until Brittany opens her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Brittany bites her bottom lip, and nods. "Please. I mean, like we don't even have to have sex, although I really want to, I just want to be alone, like _really_ alone with you, and possibly get your clothes off, and I'm rambling so please tell me to shut up."

Santana can't help but laugh. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Just, go from being this insanely sexy woman, that has gotten me absolutely soaked, by the way," She adds on, smirking at the way Brittany's jaw falls open slightly. _Revenge._ "To being so cute."

"You think I'm cute?" Cute is pretty much the most appropriate word for the smile Brittany shoots at Santana. Adorable would work as well.

"The cutest." If the pre-Brittany version of Santana could see her now…

Brittany beams up at Santana, and she can't help but kiss the blond once more, before ungracefully climbing off Brittany's lap. She's a little unsteady on her feet, and she stumbles back over to the bar, looking at herself in the small mirror.

Oh God. The neckline of her dress is completely crooked where Brittany had tried to push it out the way, and her neck is littered with bite marks, a particularly prominent one on the left side of her neck. Her lips are swollen, and her hair is a tousled mess from where Brittany had been tugging at it. She picks up the glass of lemonade still sitting there and gulps it all down, and turns round to see Brittany standing and running her hand through her messy hair.

The gentle sigh escapes Santana before she can stop it. Brittany looks at her questioningly, and Santana decides she's already in deep enough, may as well drown a little more. "You're so beautiful, Brittany."

Brittany ducks her head shyly, and a light flush spreads over her cheeks, like it does every time Santana compliments her. Well, over her already plenty flushed cheeks, Santana notes smugly.

She walks up to Brittany and slides her arms around Brittany's waist, tugging the blond closer.

"I have to pee," Santana starts off, romantically. "So I'll just meet you outside? Less chance of anyone seeing us sneak off as well." She smirks, kissing Brittany quickly, just because she can.

"Okay." Brittany beams back at her, kissing her back. And obviously, because one kiss just isn't enough, Santana presses their lips together a few more times before pulling completely away, shoving Brittany playfully towards the door.

"_Go_, Britt."

"See you outside." Brittany tosses over her shoulder as she slips out the door.

Santana sighs, like a lovesick moron, and gets another glass of lemonade. She needs to cool down a bit more.

She's going to go home with Brittany. She just spent nearly half an hour heatedly making out with her employee in secret, and now she's going home with her. She's the worst boss ever.

Fuck. She can't help it though. She knows it's wrong, and she shouldn't be doing this, for the many reasons she's told herself a thousand times before. _Unprofessional, unethical, inappropriate…_ Fuck.

Quinn would kill her if she ever found out, and Kurt suspects something already. Santana knows when she eventually talks to Kurt, because she kinda has to after he saved them during fucking Never Have I Ever, she knows his first question is going to be what's going on between them.

And Santana has no idea how to answer that question.

/

After she's done peeing, she's nearly at the door to the club when somebody stumbles into her. Santana is about to glare, and possibly yell at whoever it is, when she realizes it's the blond girl who walked in on her and Brittany.

The girl quickly apologizes, then seems to recognize Santana, and laughs. "Congratulations by the way, your girlfriend's hot."

Santana smiles and just agrees, because it feels amazing, for a second, to pretend that Brittany is hers, completely. Plus some people totally judge when you make out with someone you're not dating.

She holds the door open for the blond to walk through first, since she's feeling polite, and says goodbye to her when she spots Brittany standing beside a taxi, walking over to her and smiling when Brittany opens the cab door for her with a flourish, saying _m'lady_ in an exaggerated English accent.

Santana giggles and clambers into the taxi, Brittany following. Brittany tells the driver her address, and Santana doesn't even think about it, she just reaches over to Brittany's lap and tangles their fingers together, smiling and shrugging slightly when Brittany looks at her.

The smile Brittany shoots at her could probably power all of New York for a month.

/

Santana suitably distracts Brittany when the blond is trying to find her keys, wrapping her arms around her from behind, and pressing kisses down the back and side of her neck.

"San, stop it. Seriously!" Brittany giggles, trying to squirm away from Santana, but she just hugs on tighter.

Brittany eventually finds her keys, jams them in the lock and flings the door open, turning around and grabbing at the lapels of Santana's blazer, tugging her inside. The door swings shut, and Brittany immediately pushes Santana against it, pressing their lips together for the hundredth time that night.

Santana sighs into the kiss, and lets her bag fall to the floor, a following thud marking Brittany's. Grabbing at the blond's shoulders for balance, Santana kicks her shoes off and fumbles with the zip of Brittany's jacket, finally getting it down and pushing it back. Brittany loses her own shoes, and shrugs off her coat before pulling at Santana's blazer.

Santana is about to protest at her blazer being thrown over a chair next to the door, because it's Armani and it's _new,_ but then Brittany's hands are on her ass, urging her up until she wraps one leg around Brittany's waist, then the other, and then she's being picked up and carried across Brittany's open plan apartment.

She groans into Brittany's mouth, because fucking _hell_ this is still just as hot as the first time Brittany did it. If not hotter, because they're not in Rainbow's bathroom this time, they're in Brittany's apartment, and they're completely alone.

The kiss breaks, and Brittany sets her down on the couch, and goes to move to sit next to Santana, but the blond picking her up like she weighs nothing has really gotten Santana going again, so slides her hands down from Brittany's shoulder to her lower back, pulling her forward as she leans back.

Their legs tangle together at the other end of the couch, and Brittany's forearms land either side of Santana's head, the blond hovering over her before leaning down again and kissing her gently. Santana doesn't want gentle though, so she runs her hands down to Brittany's ass, grabbing at it, and pulls Brittany against her.

Brittany squeaks in surprise, and then moans as Santana leans up to kiss at her neck.

"_Santana,_" Brittany moans her name, and Santana gently bites at her neck one last time before returning to her lips.

Santana can feel her body heating up, and her heart is hammering, both in her chest and between her legs. She wants nothing more than to rip Brittany's dress off, rip her underwear off and thrust her fingers into the panting blond until she can feel her clench around them, but something is stopping her.

It's one thing to – frequently – make out with her employee; it's another one entirely to actually have sex with them. Santana's head is spinning, and not just from Brittany, whose tongue is in her mouth and whose hand is running up her body to squeeze at her boob again. They're both still slightly drunk, and for the first time in a _long_ time, Santana tries to slow down the kiss.

"Britt," She gasps. "Wait, stop."

Brittany groans into her neck, but pulls back, her hand sliding off her chest to rest on the cushion of the sofa beneath Santana. "Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" Brittany asks, still sounding quite breathless as she hovers over Santana.

"No, God of course not Britt. Just, we're both drunk. Maybe we should stop…" Santana trails off as Brittany leans down again, brushing their lips together.

"Do you want to stop?" Brittany asks huskily, kissing along her jaw. Santana moans.

"_Fuck_, no of course I don't _want_ to, but Britt, I also don't want our first time to be when we're both still drunk."

Brittany stills against her, and Santana realizes what she's implied. That she wants _this_ to be a regular thing. That she's thought about _their first time_, not just them having sex. That she actually cares about Brittany enough to not want their first time to be a drunken fumble on the couch.

Brittany slowly pull back to stare at Santana, and that look from the VIP room is in her eyes again. The one Santana doesn't want to name, but this time it's not hidden behind layers and layers of lust.

And Santana realizes then that Brittany cares about her as well. She can see it in Brittany's gaze, the soft smile being aimed down at her. This isn't just a hook-up to Brittany. She's not just sleeping with her boss to try and get ahead in the design world, she actually _likes_ Santana back.

God, she can't believe she ever thought Brittany could be like that. Brittany is probably the physical manifestation of everything good in the world. So basically the polar opposite of Santana.

Santana can't help but smile back, and reaches a hand up to slide across Brittany's cheek, cupping her jaw in her hand. "You deserve better than that Brittany." _You deserve better than me._

Brittany doesn't answer, just smiles wider, and leans down to kiss Santana slowly. There's no urgency behind this one, and Santana tries to convey all the things she's not ready to say yet through the kiss.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" Brittany whispers to her once the kiss has been broken. Santana hears the _do you want to stay with me_ in between Brittany's words, and she nods.

Brittany grins and climbs off Santana, holding a hand out to her. Santana takes it, and they walk hand in hand towards the door that Santana assumes leads to Brittany's bedroom. Unless she and Sam share a bed, in which case, awkward.

Shit. Sam.

"Britt, wait, what about Sam?"

Brittany turns to face Santana just before she opens the door. "He texted when we were in the taxi. He said he'd gone home with your friend Mercedes."

Santana raises her eyebrow, because Mercedes isn't exactly the one-nighter kind of girl, so she shall be questioning her about _that_ when she sees her tomorrow.

"So we are completely alone, don't worry." Brittany smirks and tugs her closer, wrapping her arms around Santana as she walks backwards into her bedroom, pulling Santana with her. She flicks the lights on, and Santana takes the time to look around Brittany's room as the blond lets go of her and walks over to her dresser.

The walls are a light blue, and there's a few posters of various movies and bands covering one of them. A desk covered in sketchbooks and photos sits next to the door, and there's two cameras sitting on a pile of books, a polaroid one and a fancy professional one, that Santana thinks Quinn has a similar one to.

"Uh, I usually sleep naked so I don't really have a lot of pyjamas, but these should fit you." Images of a naked Brittany leap into Santana's head as the blond hands her some shorts and a tank top. "And stop picturing me naked." Brittany giggles.

"Kinda difficult to when you're this hot." Santana smirks, wrapping the arm not holding the clothes around Brittany's waist, and kissing her. "Uh, where's your bathroom?"

Santana is definitely not going to be in the same room as Brittany when they're getting changed, otherwise she really won't be able to control herself.

"The door next to the front door." Brittany kisses her back, then pulls away. "I'm just gonna start getting naked, so uh, feel free to stay or go and get changed."

Santana gulps, then hits Brittany gently on the arm. Tease.

/

If these little sleepovers are going to become a regular occurrence, Santana is going to need to bring her own pyjamas, because Brittany must have owned these clothes when she was like sixteen, because they're tiny on Santana.

Although thinking about it, that's maybe the reason Brittany gave her these ones. The shorts are black with little yellow ducks printed all over them, and the tight white tank top barely reaches to the top of the shorts. Picking her dress up off the floor, she opens the door and hurries back to Brittany's bedroom. It's cold.

Brittany's sitting on the bed when she gets back, wearing even less than Santana. She has a black tank top on, and hasn't even bothered with shorts; she just has light blue underwear on. Santana thinks she may be experiencing a heart attack, dragging her hungry gaze up Brittany's endless legs. She tries to hold back a whimper at all the exposed Brittany suddenly on display, but fails miserably.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill me?" She didn't actually mean to say that out loud, but Brittany just laughs and tells her to come to bed, and okay, Santana could get used to hearing that.

Santana tries to ignore the hungry way Brittany is looking at her as she folds her dress up and places it on the chair by the desk. She switches the lights off and tries to navigate her way across the dark bedroom.

Brittany flings the sheets back and settles under them, shifting over towards the wall the bed is set against so Santana can climb in after her. Santana hesitates for a second, before climbing in and snuggling up to Brittany, resting her head on her shoulder and sliding her left arm across Brittany's stomach. Holy _fuck_, she'd forgotten about the abs.

Brittany slides her left arm around Santana's shoulder and kisses her on the forehead gently, running the fingers of her other hand up and down Santana's arm.

Christ, Santana is _cuddling_. Like, legit cuddling with a girl. A girl she hasn't even had sex with, at that. She doesn't remember the last time she did this.

Brittany hugs her closer, and Santana sighs out across the skin her head is resting on. Their bare legs tangle together under the duvet, and Santana wonders if this is really what she's been missing out on, refusing to have any form of feelings for anyone.

Because this feels really fucking good. Cuddling. With Brittany.

Although, she admits, it probably only feels this good, she probably only feels this _happy_, because she's with Brittany, and not a random girl she's picked up at the bar.

"Britt," She mumbles out, and Brittany's head turns, lips brushing against her forehead again. "I really am sorry, by the way."

She can almost imagine the adorable – really Santana, _really?_ – look of confusion on Brittany's face, so she elaborates. "For Wednesday, yelling at you, being such a bitch. I was just mad about, well, you know, _everything_, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Brittany shuffles around, manoeuvring herself and Santana until they're both lying on their sides, facing each other in Brittany's bed. Brittany smiles softly through the darkened room, and raises a hand to run her fingers gently down Santana's cheek. "It's okay. I forgave you already."

"I know, just…" Santana trails off, unsure of what to say. She's not entirely sure she'd be able to speak anyway, the way Brittany is looking at her. "Um, I'm tired Britt, can we just go to sleep?"

Brittany nods, then contradicts herself, lunging forward to kiss Santana. "Sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you." She murmurs against Santana's lips, breaking the kiss after a few seconds.

Santana giggles, kissing Brittany again. "You really don't have to apologize for kissing me, trust me."

The dull ache still present between Santana's legs flares up again as Brittany kisses her harder, pushing her tongue into Santana's mouth. Brittany's hand slides down Santana's body, tugging her closer when it reaches her hip, and Santana groans into the blond's hot mouth when Brittany rolls them over, resting her weight on top of Santana.

"Fuck, Britt." She gasps out when Brittany kisses down her neck, aiming straight for her pulse point. Evidently Brittany has figured out already what kissing that spot does to her.

"I thought you wanted to sleep." Brittany says against her skin, and Santana can hear the smirk in her voice. She moans when Brittany slides her tongue across her collarbone, and tangles her hands in the hair tickling against her, urging Brittany back up to her lips.

Brittany's left arm is resting on the pillow beside Santana's head, and her right is still running up and down Santana's body. The incredibly short tank top Santana is wearing is starting to ride up, and on the next upstroke of Brittany's hand, it disappears under the fabric, resting against Santana's burning skin.

"You're so hot." Brittany moans, and Santana figures Brittany means both meanings of the word. Brittany's hand roams across her stomach, her fingers gently tracing across Santana's skin, before starting to inch up towards her chest.

Santana groans, knowing she has to stop Brittany now, otherwise the want flooding through her body will take her over completely, and she'll lose all control and beg the blond to just fuck her. Mustering as much morality as she can find – and that takes a _lot _of effort – she grabs at Brittany's hand, which has just started to brush against the underside of her boob, and pulls it back out from under the top.

Brittany whines into her mouth, pulling back and pouting down at Santana. God Brittany is so fucking gorgeous. Her chest is rising up and down quickly as she attempts to catch her breath, and her hair is a dishevelled mess from Santana tugging at it, but she's still one of, if not _the_ most beautiful women Santana has ever seen.

"You're so gorgeous." Santana murmurs, awestruck. Brittany smiles down at her, and kisses her gently again before rolling over, snuggling up to Santana's side. Santana still feels a bit strange saying things like _you're beautiful_ or whatever, she's hardly used to complimenting a girl past _you're hot_. Apparently turning into a mushy sap straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel is an unfortunate side effect of falling in love.

Santana shifts slightly, until her back is pressed against Brittany's front, and when a hand slides around her waist she grabs a hold of it, tangling their fingers together. She brings their joined hands up to rest against her chest, and she hears Brittany inhale sharply behind her.

"Your heart's beating really fast." Brittany comments, cuddling as close as she can to Santana.

Santana smiles, even though Brittany won't be able to see, and murmurs a reply as she feels the first pulls of sleep claim her.

"Just what you do to me, Britt."

/

Santana is jolted awake the next morning by Brittany sitting up suddenly.

"Mmf, Britt, what the hell?" Brittany's sudden movements have shifted the duvet down slightly, and she grabs at it, trying to pull it up to cover her now exposed shoulders, burying her head deeper into the pillow.

"Crap. That was Sam. I heard the door. Sam just got home." Brittany mutters quickly. Santana freezes. Her blazer, bag and shoes are still by the door. _Fuck_.

"Your stuff is still by the door, San." Great minds. "Crap. Um, wait here, I'll go and make sure Sam isn't going to come in here."

Brittany vaults over Santana without waiting for an answer, and quickly opens the door, sliding out and closing it behind her. Santana spares a brief moment of mild jealousy that Sam gets to see Brittany in her _underwear-masquerading-as-pyjamas_ every morning, but then the cold reality of the situation sets in.

She's in her employee's bed. After spending the night. Okay they didn't have sex, but they made out. A lot. And now said employee's best friend and roommate, who also happens to be another employee, is right outside.

_Fuck_.

Santana bolts up, and tries not to make any noise as she quickly strips herself of Brittany's clothes, and tugs her dress back over her head. Christ she's going to freeze walking home. Or getting a taxi home, since she actually has no idea where Brittany and Sam's apartment is in relation to her own. She was slightly more focused on Brittany in the cab last night rather than scenic New York passing outside the window.

Brittany slips back into the room at that point, carrying Santana's stuff.

"I told Sam that these were mine, and I just changed before we left, but I don't think he believed me." Brittany whispers. Fantastic. Kurt already suspects something; she doesn't need Trouty wondering if something's going on as well.

"Where is Sam?" Santana asks, putting her shoes back on and shoving her arms through her blazer. It's all wrinkled. Fabulous.

Brittany bites her lip and shifts awkwardly. "Watching TV."

"Please say in his room."

"In the living room." Brittany shakes her head. Great. Thanks to whatever idiot architect designed Brittany's apartment, there is no chance she'd be able to even open the door without Sam seeing her. And it's not like she can just hide out in Brittany's room all day – although she wouldn't mind that. As long as she was with Brittany. Preferably naked. She has a meeting at 1pm with Holly and Quinn to discuss the filming of the commercials for Hollidaze. She quickly checks her phone and sees the time as just after 8am, and she has two texts, one from Quinn and one from Kurt.

Ignoring them both, she looks back up to Brittany. "How the hell am I supposed to get out then? I mean, much as I'd love to stay here with you all day, I have to meet Quinn and Holly this afternoon."

Brittany beams at her, and she smiles despite the slight panic beginning to form in her stomach. Brittany starts to slink closer to her, wrapping her arms around her waist when she reaches Santana. "I don't want you to go either." She kisses Santana gently, and Santana melts against her. "You can sneak out the window. I'm on the bottom floor."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Sneak out the window? Britt I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm also not Spiderman, there's still a massive drop, and I'd kinda like not to die."

"Britt?" Sam's voice cuts off whatever Brittany's about to say, and Santana freezes. Should she hide?

"Yeah?" Brittany asks, shoving Santana towards her closet. How ironic.

Santana dives into the closet and shuts the door just as Sam opens Brittany's door. Does he have no concept or privacy or something? Bastard. She peeks between the slats and sees his big guppy mouth appear.

"We've got no Doritos left so I was gonna run to the store to get some more. You need anything?" Santana watches his gaze linger on Brittany's still bare legs for a bit too long and she has to resist the urge to leap out the closet to throttle him. It wouldn't be _professional_. "Like some pants?" He asks with a ridiculously huge smile.

"Uh no, thanks, I'm good Sam."

He ducks back out of Brittany's bedroom with a cheerful _goodbye_, and Santana doesn't open the closet door until she hears the front door slamming.

"Fucking hell that was close." She groans, coming out of the closet. Yes, she's aware how funny that sounds. Brittany just laughs and pulls her into a hug, before kissing her.

"Do you really have to go?" She mumbles against Santana's lips, and Santana sighs out a _yes_.

"I do, unfortunately. I kinda have to leave like now as well, the sooner I get being interrogated by Quinn over with, the better." She rolls her eyes, normally she's home by this point, and if Quinn made it home last night then she'll definitely be pestering Santana for her whereabouts.

"Okay." Brittany pouts, but starts walking her to the door anyway. Nothing in Santana wants to leave and get a taxi back to Quinn and her nosey questions, but unfortunately she does have to leave. No matter how much she'd rather just walk the half-naked Brittany in front of her back towards the warm bed she woke up in, and spend the rest of the day, possibly weekend there.

"I'll call you later?" Santana's voice rises slightly at the end, unsure if Brittany will even want Santana bugging her later on.

Brittany just smiles and says _okay_ again, before leaning in to kiss Santana goodbye. They eventually manage to break apart and Santana mumbles a _bye Britt_ against Brittany's lips before walking out the door.

Reaching the end of Brittany's corridor, she turns around and sees Brittany's head still sticking out the door. She waves, and Brittany waves back, and she tries to squash the ridiculous fluttering she's feeling in her stomach. Fucking butterflies. She's not a teenager anymore. Ridiculous.

/

Shockingly enough, Rachel is in her apartment when she finally gets home half an hour later. Brittany doesn't actually live that far away from her, but the fucking asshole taxi driver insisted on going a ridiculously long way that he claimed was a shortcut. Lying bastard.

"Oh you're here Berry. Brilliant. Just who I wanted to see."

Rachel looks confused. "Really?"

"No. What the fuck are you doing here, why are you _always_ here?" Santana grumbles, kicking her shoes off by the door and stomping into her room. Tugging her dress off and quickly getting changed into grey sweatpants and a navy blue tank top – that actually fits her, unlike Brittany's – she strolls back out into the hall, and walks into the kitchen.

"Where's Quinn?" She asks Rachel as she makes a beeline for the coffee machine. Her head is starting to thump slightly, and she has been in enough meetings hungover to last her a lifetime.

"I'm here." Quinn breezes into the kitchen, before sitting down at the table in the chair next to Rachel. "So, Blondie good?"

Santana freezes, and she feels her blood run cold. Well that's certainly a way to curb the arousal that's still lurking in her veins from Brittany.

Quinn can't possibly know… Can she? They were so careful. She thinks. Taking a sip of her coffee to stall for time, she turns around slowly to face Quinn and Rachel, both of whom are staring up at her expectantly. "What are you talking about Fabray?"

Quinn takes a dainty bite of the jam-covered slice of toast in front of her. "Last night. I saw you leaving with some blond girl. You even held the door open for her, I'm impressed. Evidently one of the many has rubbed some manners off on you."

Santana feels her whole body relax. Quinn hadn't seen her with Brittany; she'd seen her with that random blond girl that walked in on her and Brittany. Thank fuck.

Wait. Kurt. Fuck. He definitely knew something was going on. Excellent. Just what Santana needs. He'll bug her to talk about it, and she is not ready to. Just fantastic.

"Oh her. Yeah she was alright." Santana shrugs, turning towards the toaster with an air of fake nonchalance. If Quinn thinks she's still sleeping with random girls, she's not going to correct her. She tunes Rachel yammering about something or other out as she spreads butter and then jam onto her toast, and sits down opposite Quinn at the table. And freezes.

Quinn and Rachel both have faint hickies on their necks. Is there like some sort of high schooler making the rounds of her friends or something? She chews her toast slowly and glances between her two friends suspiciously.

"So did you guys both just stay here last night?" _Let's start off subtle._

Quinn nods, a mouthful of toast preventing her from talking, while Rachel starts speaking. "We did indeed, Santana. As Quinn noticed you left with another girl, we knew we would have the place to ourselves last night."

Santana raises an eyebrow as a look of panic comes over Quinn's face. "Wanky." She intones, keeping her gaze on Quinn as Rachel starts spluttering about it _not being like that Santana_.

"So did you both go for the same guy last night, or did you give each other those matching hickies?" Let's be real, Santana's about as subtle as a fire alarm. "I mean, most girls would go for something dumb and nauseating like friendship bracelets, but hey, whatever floats your big gay boat."

There's a heavy pause for a minute, before Quinn wipes the panicked look off her face to glare at Santana. "Not everybody is gay Santana. Grow up."

Quinn stands up and storms off towards her room, leaving her toast behind. Rachel rolls her eyes and tells her to be nicer, before standing up and following Quinn. Santana watches her go suspiciously. Surely they couldn't be… No.

Jesus Christ, Brittany is clearly affecting her brain more than she realizes, or there's something wrong with this jam if she's thinking about Quinn and Rachel in _that_ way.

It's ridiculous, there's no way that could be possible. They spent most of freshman year fighting over Finnept for God's sake. Santana dismisses the idea, and forgets about it completely when her phone beeps. It's just a text from her cell company, offering her discounts on something, but she remembers she has two unread texts.

The one from Quinn was sent at 1.04am the previous night, and it just says _Where are you_?

The one from Kurt however, makes her gulp. _We need to talk_, sent at 7am this morning, shows up as she clicks onto Kurt's name, and she shuts her eyes. She at least owes Kurt some of the truth, but she doesn't want to talk to him at all.

He'll ask if her and Brittany are together, ad what is Santana supposed to say? No? Yes? Are they? Santana has no idea. Sure she's certain Brittany likes her back, but her feelings probably aren't quite on the same scale that Santana's are. God. She feels like she's in that awkward _are they aren't they_ stage of dating someone, and it is a stage she's never wanted to be again.

They aren't _together _together, like, Brittany's not her girlfriend or anything, and they're not even fuck buddies, as crude as the term is. Make out buddies? Santana snorts. Forget high school, that sounds like a term she'd use in middle school.

She would just ask Brittany about it, but she couldn't handle the rejection if it turned out Brittany was just looking for something casual. Although if you wanted a fuck buddy, your boss isn't most people's first choice, so maybe it isn't casual for Brittany.

It's certainly the furthest thing from casual for Santana.

/

It's about 12.55 when she arrives at the studio. Nobody else is there, as Quinn and Santana gave everyone the day off, so Santana walks through the empty foyer towards the elevator on her own.

Quinn and Rachel had reappeared at around 11am, just after Santana had gotten out of the shower, informing her they were going to lunch and Quinn would just see her at the studio. How nice, not even an invitation.

Once she reaches the meeting room, she can hear Holly and Quinn chattering about something from the end of the corridor. She's about to push the door open to walk through when she feels her phone buzz. Stuffing her hand into her pocket, she can't help the dopey smile – the Brittany smile, she corrects herself, it's gotta go by its proper title now – at the _Britt iMessage_ showing up on the screen.

She opens the message and somehow manages not to melt into a puddle of goo. Quinn would probably yell at the melted pile of Santana for ruining the carpet rather than helping anyway. All the text consists of is three little words, _I miss you_, but they're still enough to make Santana's heart start thumping against her ribcage. She quickly types a message back, and hopes she doesn't look too obviously happy as she definitely does not skip into the room.

Santana hopes her message makes Brittany's heart skip a beat, across town in her freakishly cold apartment, like Brittany does to her.

_I miss you too._


	10. Chapter Ten

Hello :D Sorry this is late, but I had to scrap the original outline for this chapter cause it sucked lol.

Also, I've only briefly skimmed over this, as I'm supposed to be going out in like ten minutes, and I'm nowhere near ready lol, so I apologise for any mistakes!

And thank you for the usual reviews etc

Also, I now have a Twitter for this, if you want to follow me/ask questions, I'm heyho_ff :)

Enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER TEN

"How's your coffee?" Kurt asks, breaking the awkward silence that's been engulfing him and Santana for the past few minutes.

"Good." Santana replies, blowing gently on the piping hot liquid in her mug. "Or at least I think it will be when it eventually cools down enough for me to actually attempt to drink it." She gets coffee is supposed to be drank hot, but Christ, there's a difference between _hot_ and _melt your tongue into a hideous gooey bloody mess from violently high temperatures_.

Kurt laughs, and takes a sip of his tea, before placing it down on the table in between them and fixing Santana with a look. Great. Santana knows the exact conversation she doesn't want to have, is about to happen.

"So," Kurt begins. "How's Brittany?"

Upon hearing her name, Santana's mind immediately shoots to the blond. For a change. It's only been a little over 24 hours since she last saw Brittany, and Santana misses her already. _Jesus_, she internally berates herself, _you sound like a clingy girlfriend_. Not that she can help it, Brittany is pretty amazing. She's cute, she's sweet, she's funny, she can make Santana smile even when she's desperately trying to keep her patented – no seriously, it's patented – bitch face on. She's _Brittany._

"Santana?" Kurt's voice breaks through her thoughts, and she blinks, wondering how long she'd zoned out, daydreaming about Brittany.

"She's fine, as far as I'm aware." Santana eventually settles on replying with. She's certainly not going to start gushing to Kurt about how wonderful Brittany is, she doesn't even know how much Kurt suspects yet.

"Santana," Kurt sighs, in that slightly condescending, breathy tone of voice he has, and Santana knows she's probably not going to like what he's about to say. "Look, I know something's going on between you two." _Ding ding ding._

Santana lowers her gaze, running her finger along the rim of her cup of coffee. She doesn't reply, instead choosing to fix her stare firmly into the black liquid. There's a strange churning starting in her stomach, that Santana eventually identifies as panic. She does _not_ want to talk about this.

"San," Kurt says her name again, evidently not wanting to drop it. "She's your employee."

"You think I don't know that?" Santana bites back, snapping her head up to glare at Kurt. "You think I'm not reminded of that lovely little fact every fucking time I see her at my goddamn studio, Kurt?"

His eyes widen slightly at Santana's sudden outburst, and he picks up his cup, taking another gulp of his tea before speaking again. "So why are you…" He trails off, raising his eyebrows at Santana to continue, to fill him in on what exactly Santana and Brittany are doing.

She doesn't.

"Santana, I'm trying to be your friend here. But I can't help you if you don't tell me-"

"I don't recall ever asking for your help, Smurfette." Santana snaps at him, lowering her voice slightly when the old grandma a few seats away from them looks over in their direction disapprovingly.

Kurt rolls his eyes, huffing dramatically. "Of course you didn't ask Santana, but you need-"

"No, shut the hell up Kurt, you have no idea what I need. But let me make one thing clear, I do not need your help. I can handle things perfectly fine on my own." Santana settles back into her chair, taking a gulp of her finally cool enough to drink coffee.

Kurt squints annoyingly at her, like he's studying her, then sits back in his own seat and folds his arms, mirroring Santana's position. "So what exactly is going on with you and Brittany then?"

Santana freezes, mid-lift of her cup to her lips. What's going on with her and Brittany? Well she would answer that, if she had a fucking clue herself. She deflates, and sets her cup back down on the table, keeping her hands wrapped around it, and staring into the coffee.

"I-" She tries to speak, but nothing comes out. At the corner of her vision she sees Kurt's hand inching towards her own, and she doesn't bother resisting, or shouting at him, or throwing he coffee at him, when he rests his fingers on the back of her hand.

"Santana?" She eventually looks up, meeting his concerned gaze.

"I- I don't know." She swallows, ignoring the panic and nerves growing in her stomach, and tries to keep talking. Rachel's always banging on about how talking about stuff helps– well, her exact words are usually something more along the lines of _depending on what situation you are in, and how you are feeling, I'm sure someone somewhere has written a song about it, and therefore knows how you feel, and perhaps singing about your feelings will help, and if you'd like a duet partner I would be more than happy to assist, _usually just in one breath – and maybe the little hobbit is right about something for once.

"I just- I can't help it Kurt. She's…" Santana trails off, trying to find the words to do Brittany justice. She knows there's probably an idiotic smile on her face as she thinks about the blond, but she's given up caring really.

"She's Brittany." She eventually settles on, echoing her earlier thought, shrugging half-heartedly as she drops her gaze from Kurt's eyes to her coffee. All this _talking_, her damn coffee will probably be fucking cold soon.

"Oh God," Kurt chuckles, and Santana snaps her head back up to glare at him. She opens up to him and he fucking _laughs_? See if she ever fucking does it again. Asshole. "You've got it _bad_."

Rolling her eyes, Santana snatches her hand back from Kurt's grasp and ignores his laughing, moodily taking a gulp of her – yep, stone fucking cold – coffee.

Kurt eventually stops sniggering, and clears his throat, fighting to keep a smirk off his annoying face. "Okay, on a slightly more serious note, and I realize by asking you this I am risking you putting a red cloth in with all my white laundry next time you're lurking around my apartment, but what _is_ going on with you and Brittany? Are you two together, just sleeping together…?"

"No, we're not together." Santana ignores the pang of hurt that shoots through her when she says that. "We're… I don't know. It's not like we can even be together while she still works for me."

"Doesn't she work under Quinn though, and not you?"

"Technically yes, she's in Quinn's department, but the whole studio is owned by Quinn and me, so I'm still her boss, and she's still my employee." Santana sighs, pushing the cup of cold coffee away from her.

"But you've kissed." Kurt doesn't even bother phrasing it as a question.

Santana sighs. "Yes." She chooses not to enlighten Kurt to the fact she'd stayed over at Brittany's on Friday night. She doesn't really want to deal with his dumb _get it, Hopez_ comments, that she fully blames Puck for starting.

"And you like her?" Kurt at least has the decency, or common sense, to phrase that as a question. "Or are you just sleeping with her?"

Santana pauses, feeling awfully vulnerable. She's never been the best at talking about her feelings – _understatement of the century…_ – but Kurt and Quinn are the two people it's easiest for her to open up to.

"I haven't slept with her." Santana ignores the way Kurt's eyes widen again. "But… I- I really like her Kurt."

Maybe she'll not eat quite so many of Rachel's weird vegan pancakes that totally tasted awesome next time Berry is imposing on their privacy, cause this talking about feelings shit is actually kinda working. Santana feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, finally admitting out loud, to someone else, that she likes Brittany.

She decides to keep the fact that she's sure her feelings for the blond are a lot stronger than _like_ to herself at the moment.

Kurt's phone buzzes, and he quickly checks the text he's received while Santana is busy daydreaming, muttering something about going to meet Sebastian, before draining the last of his coffee.

"Wow." Kurt smirks like the smug little bitch he is, wrapping his bright red scarf around his neck. "Someone's finally managed to tame The Lima Ladykiller. I'm impressed, didn't think anyone could do that. I haven't seen you like this since Spencer."

He stops abruptly, and pauses on adjusting the scarf, realizing what he's said. Tension shoots through Santana's body, and she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to shake it off.

"I hope you aren't expecting me to apologize." Santana's eyes snap open again, and she raises an eyebrow at Kurt. "I'm not going to avoid the topic. I know you Santana, I know that despite how much you might like this girl, you're still scared of commitment, and you can't keep using Spencer, or your father for that matter, as an excuse."

"Listen Richard Simmons-" Santana ignores how shaky her voice is, trying to bite back at Kurt. What he's saying is completely true, but Santana doesn't want to hear it.

"Santana I am hoping the fact we're still in public will at least delay your attempts to brutally murder me for saying this, but just because Spencer broke your heart, it doesn't mean that everyone will." He pauses, takes another deep breath, and continues. "What she did to you would have an impact on anyone's love life, but I have never seen you so… Infatuated with someone before."

Taking advantage of Santana's still slightly stunned state, he stands up and shrugs his coat on.

"I know it's slightly complicated given that she's your employee, but I haven't seen you like this over someone in a long time, and you deserve to be happy Santana." He bends down to kiss her goodbye on the cheek. "Try not to mess it up by being, well, _you_."

The teasing, Santana is much more comfortable with. Punching Kurt lightly in the arm relieves some of the tension building up in her body – _wanky_ – and she smiles weakly. "You're such an ass."

"But what a good ass I am." Kurt says dramatically, before smirking and saying goodbye, walking towards the door of the coffee shop.

Santana sits for few moments, before getting up to order another coffee. She has her laptop with her, so instead of thinking about the many valid points Kurt has brought up, she can distract herself with work.

Although, to be fair, not much can distract her from thinking about Brittany. Especially when said blond texts her a few minutes later, saying _I miss you, _and her heart starts thumping madly, and a goofy smile breaks out across her face.

Jesus Christ, Santana is falling _hard_.

/

On Monday morning the next day, Holly comes sweeping in unannounced, asking to see Quinn and Santana.

In what is possibly the most last minute, hasty decision ever made, Holly informs them that Graphix, the biggest magazine in the design industry, wants to do a photoshoot and interview with them on Tuesday, as part of a piece to feature "up and coming designers that are about to blast into the big leagues baby!" Holly's words, not hers.

"Absolutely!" Quinn agrees immediately, a massive grin breaking out across her face.

Santana rolls her eyes and slumps slightly further down in her chair, still half asleep. After leaving Kurt the previous afternoon, she'd gone out for dinner with Mercedes, and grilled her about Sam. Santana's not actually sure if she's going to be able to look Sam in the eye for a while; Mercedes is not exactly shy about sharing the finer _details _of what Sam's humungous mouth is apparently capable of.

She'd then been up until about midnight; finishing some paperwork while Brittany happily distracted her with frequent texts. Her text log with the blond is now becoming quite extensive, silly little conversations about ducks, and Lord Tubbington's experiences in rehab for his ecstasy addiction, and Santana saying that Hero by Enrique whatshisface has just come up on her iTunes, and Brittany replying with she _really_ misses Santana, and she'd totally insist on dancing with her if she was there, and every text makes Santana smile, but she misses hearing Brittany's voice. Sam had been lurking around Brittany's apartment, and Quinn had been unusually nosey about who Santana was texting so they hadn't risked a phone call.

God, she's missing the sound of her _voice_. She has a distinct memory of mercilessly mocking Rachel a few months ago when she went on an Oscar-worthy tangent about _missing Finn's voice_ when he and Kurt went back to Ohio to visit their parents.

Santana is broken out of her thoughts by Quinn suddenly standing up and reaching across the table to shake Holly's hand, thanking her for her help. Apparently while Santana has been zoned out, Quinn has agreed to the feature, and Holly is stepping out to contact Graphix to let them know of the confirmation.

She huffs, not particularly looking forward to it. Her and Quinn have done one or two photoshoots before, and Santana is not a fan. She doesn't like the pounds of make up that get caked onto her face, she doesn't like the massive spotlights burning holes into her retinas, she doesn't like the chubby cameramen who always seem to hit on her once the shoot is finished, and she definitely doesn't like the interviews, since nine times out of ten it's the same boring and basic questions asked over and over again. _What inspires you, where did you come up with the idea for this, what does this signify…_

And there are occasionally the invasive questions that pry into her life, or the ones that ask about her appearance. _Are you dating anyone, are the rumours about you and Quinn being together true, care to comment on the pregnancy rumours?_

The last interview she'd done, the man had made the mistake of commenting on the number of women Santana's slept with, suggesting that maybe she needs to settle down, perhaps find a nice man. Santana had very impolitely told him where to shove his slutshaming and homophobia, and Quinn had managed to drag her out before she actually punched him. On a related note, she's no longer welcome at Pete & Peter's Photography – yes, seriously – in Harlem.

"Oh come on Santana, stop acting like a child. You know that these features help." Quinn chides, gathering up some papers in front of her.

Santana puts all her energy into mustering the fakest smile she can manage, and shoots it at Quinn. "Can't wait!"

Quinn just rolls her eyes, and tells her to be on time tomorrow, before sweeping out of the office.

/

When Santana gets to the studio the next day, and spots two guys having a cigarette outside the front door, both clad in tshirts with the Graphix logo emblazoned across the chests, she realizes that the photoshoot and interview are actually being done at their own studio.

It cheers her up slightly, since she wasn't particularly looking forward to being squished in the subway all the way to Brooklyn, where Graphix is based, or being crammed into a taxi with a chatty Quinn for an entire ride.

She'd only briefly seen Brittany yesterday, as the photography department is still busy with shooting Sebastian and Sugar, and she hadn't even been able to talk to her since it was in the middle of a meeting. It's also been far too long since she's had the chance to kiss Brittany, which Santana is even more moody about.

Ignoring the taller Graphix guy who whistles obnoxiously at her as she walks past, she enters the studio, greets Kitty good morning and heads up the elevator to find Quinn, and more importantly, the coffee Quinn texted her about. There's also the bonus of being in the photography department, and therefore getting to see Brittany.

Quinn pounces on her as soon as she walks through the door, shoving the paper cup with the creepy green Starbucks lady on the side into her hand, and drags her over to where a blond lady wearing the Graphix tshirt is stood looking at a clipboard.

"Santana, this is Terri del Monico, she's doing our interview today, Terri, this is Santana."

Santana says good morning to Terri, before tuning out whatever Quinn's yapping about to glance around the room for Brittany.

Brittany must have seen Santana first, because when Santana's eyes eventually meet baby blues, they're smiling at her over Brittany's own coffee cup. Santana gives a passing thought to how much coffee this damn studio must consume, before smiling softly back at Brittany, feeling warmth spread throughout her body at finally getting to see the blond.

"So I told Santana… San!" Quinn nudges her, and Santana blinks, turning back to face Quinn and Terri.

"Sorry, what?" Quinn looks at her suspiciously for a second, a slight narrowing of the eyes that Santana would probably have missed had she not been looking directly at her.

"Terri was telling me that she has an idea for the theme for the shoot, but she'd like to get our input, and I was thinking we could base it on the Hollidaze theme. Like the color scheme and style and everything."

Santana nods, thinking maybe she should actually start paying attention before Quinn picks up on what's, or rather who's distracting her. "Yeah that sounds great. What time are we starting?"

Terri checks her watch. "We're still setting up, so say fifteen minutes?"

Santana nods, and says she'll meet them then. She turns around to head up to her office when Quinn stops her.

"Where are you going?" She asks, squinting at Santana in that irritating way she does when she's trying to figure something out.

"My office… I have to call my Mom." Santana says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It's a complete lie of course, she plans on texting Brittany to get her sweet ass up to her office as soon as she's out the door, but Quinn doesn't need to know that. Actually, it's maybe only half a lie, because she probably should give her Mom a call soon, it's been a while since they've spoken.

Quinn just looks at her again before turning back to Terri. Santana walks over to the door leading to the hallway and turns around. Making sure Quinn isn't paying attention to her, she looks over at Brittany, and tilts her head to the side slightly, in a silent communication of _come with me._

If the smirk on Brittany's face is any indication, the blond gets the message, and Santana heads towards the elevator, dumping her coffee and bag onto her desk when she reaches her office.

Slumping into her chair, she closes her eyes resting her head against the comfy headrest. Again, she'd been up late last night talking to Brittany, and as if on cue, Santana hears the door open, and then shut, before a few footsteps and then Brittany's perfume is invading her senses as the blond sits herself down sideways in her lap.

Santana smiles, still not bothering to open her eyes, and slides her arms around Brittany's waist, hugging her closer and burying her face in the shoulder closest to her.

"I missed you." She murmurs quietly into Brittany's skin, opening her eyes when the blond slides her hands into her hair and tugs her head back gently. As always, Santana's breath catches in her throat when she opens her eyes to see Brittany looking down at her, her bright blue eyes sparkling and her perfect pink lips pulled into a smile.

"Good morning beautiful." Santana says, smiling widely at the blush that spreads over Brittany's face, as she ducks her head shyly.

"It's a better morning now that I've gotten to see you." Brittany replies, leaning down for what Santana assumes is supposed to be a short hello kiss, but of course turns into a second kiss, and then a third, and then a fourth, and then a fifth since according to Brittany _odd numbers are rounder than even ones,_ before Santana is gently running her tongue along the blond's bottom lip, and the low moan that vibrates through Brittany's body makes Santana wrap her arms tighter around her waist.

Santana goes to push her tongue into a wet mouth, but Brittany whimpers and pulls back, much too soon for Santana's liking. She pouts up at the blond, who giggles and kisses her nose, before wrapping her arms around Santana's shoulders.

"If I'm going to have to spend the whole day seeing you in those clothes, I really don't think making out with you in here is going to help my self control." Brittany smirks, and Santana is confused.

"Wait, what clothes? For the photoshoot?"

Brittany nods. "Have you not seen them yet?" Santana shakes her head slowly. Oh God. Brittany's lips curve up into an even more mischievous smirk and Santana tries to ignore the stirring of arousal it causes low in her stomach. "Oh. Well I can tell you that I am definitely looking forward to seeing you in them. Although you'd probably look better out of them."

Santana rolls her eyes, and is about to pull Brittany down for another kiss when she hears the elevator ding loudly in the hallway outside. Brittany scrambles off her lap, and stands a respectable distance away just as Quinn walks into the office.

"There you are, what are- Oh, hey Brittany."

Brittany awkwardly waves at Quinn. "Hi Quinn. Uh, I was just telling Santana that the photoshoot is about to start."

Quinn looks between the two of them for a moment, before seemingly accepting Brittany's explanation, and motions to Santana. "Get a move on. There's like fifty different outfits they want us to try."

Quinn strolls back out of the office without bothering to wait for an answer, and Santana heaves herself up, abandoning her little cup of odd tasting coffee – knowing Quinn it's probably some weird organic shit – and manages to get about three steps across her office when Brittany lunges at her, spinning her round and backing her up against the wall next to the door before kissing her. Hard.

Santana barely has time to react before Brittany's hot mouth descends on her own, and she lets out a whimper when she feels the blond's tongue push past her lips and against her own, hands coming to rest on her hips, gripping tightly. Santana's hands flail about for a second before landing on Brittany's ass, pulling the other woman closer to her, and she feels another moan vibrate through Brittany when she squeezes.

Again, Brittany pulls back after what feels like way too soon, leaving Santana breathless and _very_ turned on. She drags her gaze up from Brittany's heaving chest to darkened blue eyes and gulps at the lust filled way the blond is staring at her.

Brittany steps closer, pressing her entire body against Santana's, and leans down to whisper huskily into Santana's ear. "Just so you know, each outfit you have on, I'm going to be imagining all the ways I can take them off you. Slowly, fast, ripping them off…" She trails off, pressing her lips to just below Santana's ear and sucking gently. She stops before a bruise is made thankfully, and smirks at Santana before twirling out the office door.

Fucking hell, Santana thinks she might die of sexual frustration.

If she manages to make it through this damn photoshoot without pouncing on Brittany, that is.

/

This might be the most fun Santana has had on a photoshoot in a long time.

The others she and Quinn have done, the photographer usually asks them to pose like a freaking model, unsmiling, smiling, draped over each other, or contorting themselves into weird positions. They run a design company, they're not fucking models, and they're certainly not advertising some high class fashion brand that always have those dead eyed, over sexualized, barely clothed models in them.

Santana is changed into her first outfit, a red and black stripy dress that she's considering "borrowing", waiting for Quinn to get a move on with her dress, when two of the Graphix guys walk through the doorway. They're carrying a massive crate between them, and Santana can see what looks like a giant plush toy of a Starbucks cup peeking out of the top. Her jaw drops when the two guys put the crate down, and start lifting the stuff inside, and yes, it actually is a giant plush toy Starbucks cup. Followed by a giant slice of pizza, a muffin, a fancy looking cocktail, a huge chocolate bar, an enormous slice of cheese and about ten huge white pillows. They might possibly be marshmallows, if there's a food theme going here.

"Sorry, couldn't get my damn bra strap to sit- Oh my God, what are those?" Quinn appears next to her, in a dress identical to Santana's except its white and navy, and stares in shock at the giant stuffed toys.

"I have no idea, but do you think if we can have them, they'll fit in the apartment?" Santana asks, half serious.

/

As the photoshoot progresses, Terri gets Santana and Quinn to pose in a variety of ridiculous poses and expressions with each of the giant stuffed toys, while the photographer snaps photo after photo. There are a few more outfit changes, and then Santana is in tight black jeans with a fancy red top, and Quinn is in tight white jeans and a fancy navy top. One of the Graphix guys picks up the last prop, the slice of cheese, moving it out the way, and then another two start handing out the marshmallow pillows to the rest of the staff watching the photoshoot.

The photographer then moves out of the way, and Terri grins evilly at Santana and Quinn, before turning to address the staff members armed with pillows. "Ladies, gentlemen. I would like you to now beat the shit out of your bosses with these marshmallows."

There's a brief moment of silence, Santana and Quinn exchanging _what the fuck_ glances, before Sam shrugs and charges forward, smacking his pillow into Quinn. Santana bursts out laughing at the surprised _oof_ Quinn lets out, and then the rest of the staff are descending on them like wild animals.

/

Ten minutes later the epic pillow war is still going strong. Santana has managed to wrestle a pillow off Unique and is trying to fend off a double attack from Tina and Sam, along with Kitty, who has switched teams and sworn allegiance to Santana and Quinn. Brittany, Rory, Adam, Sebastian and Sugar have all ganged up on Quinn, and Santana can't contain her laughter anymore when she hears Quinn scream something about giving them a pay rise if they stop, before somebody thumps her again, and a pillow explodes, feathers flying everywhere.

Terri manages to stop laughing long enough to yell _cut!_ and when Sebastian moves out the way and Santana catches sight of Quinn, she bursts out laughing again. Quinn looks completely dishevelled, her hair is sticking up everywhere, and there's feathers stuck in her hair and attached to her top.

"Shut up Satan." She wheezes at Santana, attempting to pluck the feathers out of her hair, and Santana just keeps laughing harder.

"You, oh God, you look like you got gangbanged by a chicken farm." Santana snickers, laughing again when Quinn glares at her.

Terri interrupts them then, saving Quinn any more chicken jokes, and informs them that the interview will be in ten minutes, once her guys have cleaned up all the feathers.

"Hey Quinn," Santana starts, pressing her lips together to try and stop the laugh from bubbling out.

"Hey Santana?" Quinn glares at her.

"Yes?"

"Shut the fuck up."

/

It happens about halfway through the interview.

Terri has just asked Quinn who their main influences are, and Quinn starts on this huge long spiel of designers, so Santana zones out, letting her eyes and mind drift over to Brittany, who is sitting on a table – as you do – a few meters away, gossiping about something with Tina and Unique.

Brittany's in the middle of animatedly demonstrating something to Tina while Unique rolls her eyes at whatever it is, and Santana can't help but smile. Brittany's adorable, just the cutest person she's ever met. She's waving her arms about and smiling widely, and God, Santana just falls in love with her a little bit more.

It's kind of hard to imagine she's the same girl that casually informed Santana that she'd imagined them having sex on Santana's desk and asked Santana how she wanted Brittany to make her come and she really should not be thinking about this in the middle of an interview.

The arousal Brittany's kiss in the office had caused hasn't completely gone away, and it's not like it's difficult for Brittany to turn Santana on.

Brittany stops yapping about whatever, and locks eyes with Santana. She makes a point to deliberately and slowly drop her eyes to Santana's chest, where her tight top is showing off the usual amount of cleavage. Bringing them back up to eye level, Santana gulps as Brittany's darkened eyes stare into her, and she tries to stave off the warmth that's getting hotter low in her stomach.

"San!" Quinn nudges her again, and Santana reluctantly returns her gaze to Terri, who's looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry, what?" Santana says, in a word-for-word repeat of earlier that morning.

Quinn mutters something about _being professional_ under her breath, and Santana bites back a laugh, because it's a bit too late for that, and focuses on Terri.

"I asked if you're seeing anybody." Terri says, and Santana freezes.

Shit.

She must hesitate for a second too long, because Quinn slowly turns her head to stare questioningly at Santana. "Uh, no. No I'm not. Seeing anyone." Santana blurts, hoping her voice sounds as steady to Quinn and Terri as it does to her.

It's the truth. She isn't seeing anyone. Her and Brittany have made out a lot, and felt each other up like teenagers on a third date, and okay she might be falling in love with the blond, but she's still technically single. She isn't even dating anyone. Brittany and her aren't girlfriends, or together, _in a relationship_ or whatever, they haven't even gone on a date.

So why does she feel like she's lying?

Then fucking Terri opens her mouth again. "So there's nobody special in your life, at all?"

Fuck's sake.

Santana ignores the weird churning that's replaced the arousal in her stomach, and sighs. "No, no one special."

Now Santana is _definitely_ lying.

Terri shrugs, says okay and scribbles something down in her little notepad, and Santana feels like shit.

She can feel two gazes burning into either side of her head, Quinn's quizzical one on her right, Brittany's on her left. Terri says something to Quinn, distracting her, and Santana turns her head to look at Brittany.

Correction, _now _Santana feels like shit.

Tina and Unique are still flapping their arms around either side of Brittany, but the blond is staring straight at her, hurt marring her beautiful face. Santana can see her slightly glossy eyes from where she's sitting, and her lower lip shakes slightly before she sucks it into her mouth, ducking her head, blinking and forcing a smile on.

Tina turns to ask her something, and Brittany just nods, smiling weakly. The three of them stand to walk out of the studio, and Santana wants nothing more than to leap up, run after Brittany and scoop her up in her arms, possibly kiss her, and tell her she's the most special thing in Santana's life.

But of course, Brittany's her employee, and Santana's still in the middle of this fucking interview and Santana is a coward.

So she can't.

/

The interview carries on another fifteen or so minutes, and Quinn shows Terri out, before asking Santana what the hell is going on.

"What?" Santana snaps, immediately going on the defensive. Saying there's no one special in her life when there clearly is, makes her feel like shit, and when she feels like shit, she lashes out.

Quinn just studies her for a minute, until Santana is itching to hit her. Okay maybe not actually hit her, maybe with like, one of the pillows or something.

"Are you okay?" Quinn eventually asks.

"I'm fine." Santana says. "Don't you have some gay playdate to get to with Berry or something?"

Quinn just rolls her eyes, and picks up her bag. "Fine, if you say so. Yes I have plans with Rachel, so I'll see you later tonight."

"Just let me know when to bring the U-Haul round." Santana snipes at Quinn's retreating back, and apparently that isn't worth an answer. She huffs, and stands up, heading for the elevator.

When she reaches her office she pauses in the doorway.

"Hey." Brittany says, standing up from where she's sitting in Santana's chair.

"Hey…" Santana says, slightly confused as to why Brittany is here, but ridiculously happy to see her nonetheless. "I thought you'd left." She continues, half-smiling at the blond.

"I was going to," Brittany says, and Santana's heart sinks. "But then I realized I still had this." She thrusts her hand out towards Santana, and Santana recognizes it as her coat she lent Brittany ages ago.

"I totally forgot you had this. I still have your hoodie."

Brittany smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "You can keep it. Probably looks better on you anyway."

"I highly doubt that." Santana counters instantly, and takes Brittany's silence as an opportunity. "Look, I'm sorry about, you know, the interview. I just- I didn't know what to say and-"

"Santana it's okay." Brittany cuts her off. "I mean, we're not together. You don't owe me an explanation. It's okay."

"No Britt, it's not." Santana sighs. Swallowing the nerves and panic she can feel bubbling through her veins, she steps closer to blond and slowly reaches out to take Brittany's hands in her own. When Brittany doesn't yell at her, or throw something at her, Santana takes it as a good sign, tangling their fingers together. "Britt, I- This isn't something casual for me, I promise."

The look of pure joy that slowly creeps across Brittany's gorgeous face makes something in Santana's chest flutter. She assumes it's her heart, if not she should really book a hospital appointment.

Spurred on by the smile on Brittany's face, she continues. "I lied, saying there's no one special in my life. There is. I just didn't want to tell Quinn, or anyone really. I want her all to myself."

Santana gulps, wondering if she's maybe gone a bit too far with that last part, before Brittany smiles and tightens her fingers around Santana's.

"What's this girl like then?" Brittany asks, trying and failing to hide a smirk. "She must be pretty amazing."

Santana laughs, ducking her head to look at their joined hands, at the beautiful contrast between Brittany's pale fingers and her own darker ones. "She is."

"Go on." Brittany says, laughter in her voice.

"She's beautiful, she's sweet, she's funny, she can make me smile when I feel like shit, she's cute, she's beautiful, she's caring, and I can never stop thinking about her." Jesus, Santana's been watching too many romantic comedies. Just for mocking purposes, obviously…

"You said beautiful twice." Brittany whispers, untangling their fingers and sliding her arms around Santana's waist, holding her closer until their entire bodies are pressed against one another.

"Well one time just wasn't enough." This falling in love business sure does turn you into a romantic sap, doesn't it?

But Santana doesn't really care how ridiculously mushy or clichéd she sounds, instead she wraps her right arm around Brittany's shoulders, cupping Brittany's cheek with her left, gazing deeply into beautiful blue eyes. She rubs her thumb against Brittany's insanely soft skin, and leans in towards the blond.

"And I really, really like her." Santana whispers against Brittany's mouth, before swallowing Brittany's surprised gasp by pressing their lips together.

Brittany manages to gasp out _I really like you too_, to which Santana replies, "Who says I was talking about you?" with a giggle, and Brittany swats her gently on the arm before kissing her again.

And yeah okay, Santana thinks she can do the whole falling in love thing, if it's with Brittany.

/

Santana may have implied she wants their first time to be special, and she doesn't recall Brittany disagreeing, but unless the blond actually _wants_ Santana to jump her in her office during their lunch break on Friday afternoon, Brittany is going to have to stop picking her up like this.

"You're so fucking hot." Brittany mumbles into her mouth, her hands squeezing at and touching as much of Santana as she can as she holds her up against the office door. Brittany's right hand is on her ass, and her left is trailing up and down Santana's bare thigh. Of all the days to not bother with tights underneath her skirt…

Santana lets her head fall back against the door as Brittany starts pressing kisses along her jaw, before moving down to attack her throat. She feels teeth scrape against her pulse point, and she somehow manages to choke out _don't leave a mark, Britt_ around the moans she's doing a terrible job of stifling.

Brittany returns her wandering hand to Santana's ass, squeezing at the flesh with her ridiculously talented hands, and then thrusts forward with her hips, her stomach grinding against Santana's center.

"Jesus, _fuck_." Santana whimpers, loudly. "Get away, _God_, from the door, Britt. _Fuck_, someone might hear us."

"Hear you, you mean." Brittany giggles, returning her lips to Santana's and kissing her hotly. Brittany steps away from the door, spinning around and walking over to the printer table. Swiping the little stuffed crab off and onto the floor, Brittany deposits Santana onto the table, shuffling closer to stand between her legs. Her hands fall onto the tops of Santana's thighs, and run up and down the bare skin on show, eventually choosing to rest at the hem of Santana's skirt, the tips of her pointer fingers just dipping under. Her thumbs rub circles into Santana's inner thighs and Santana groans, each press of the blond's thumbs sending mini shockwaves of pleasure right to her center.

Wrapping her legs back around the blond's waist, Santana slides her hands into Brittany's hair, pulling her closer to kiss her again.

Santana thinks this every time she kisses the blond, but fuck Brittany is such a good kisser. She seems to know exactly how hard to press her lips to Santana's, how to stroke her tongue along Santana's, when to suck on Santana's bottom lip. Basically, Brittany knows exactly how to get Santana really fucking worked up, to the point where she's considering actually having sex in her office.

This is ridiculously inappropriate and unprofessional, and her office doesn't even fucking _lock_, anyone could walk in on them. Weirdly enough, the thought of being caught just turns Santana on more.

"Do you remember what I said about your desk? About wanting to fuck you on it?" Brittany husks into her ear, and okay, as if Santana's underwear weren't soaked enough already.

Santana whimpers. Fucking hell. She swallows, trying to wet her suddenly very dry throat. "I believe you actually said you wanted me to fuck you on it." She replies huskily against Brittany's lips.

"Mmm, details." Brittany smiles, letting her hands drift around Santana's waist to grab at the top of her ass, pulling her closer. Santana leans forward to kiss Brittany again, pushing her tongue past the blond's lips, and moans when Brittany sucks on it, feeling herself get ever wetter.

Trying to calm herself down slightly, Santana detaches her lips from Brittany's, gently tugging on the blond's hair to tilt her head back, and starts pressing small kisses up and down Brittany's neck. Soon enough, they turn hot and open mouthed, occasionally nibbling and then dragging her tongue over the bitten part. Fuelled on by Brittany's whimpers and moans, Santana brings her hands down from the blond's head to cup her breasts, squeezing and massaging at them until Brittany is rocking her hips forward, gasping Santana's name.

"God, I want you so much." Brittany groans, her nails digging into Santana's shoulders when she bites at her pulse point, and it might possibly be one of the hottest things Santana has ever heard. She moves her hands away from Brittany's boobs towards the buttons on the her shirt, and she manages to pop the top one open when a loud clacking in the hallway outside breaks through her haze of lust.

Quinn.

Shit.

"Quinn." Santana gasps out, shoving Brittany away from her.

Brittany blinks, trying to calm her breathing, and quickly does up the button on her shirt, informing Santana that _it's rude to say another woman's name when you're making out with someone._ Santana ignores her, and hops off the table and tugs her skirt down, running a hand through her hair as she dashes on unsteady legs behind her desk, sitting down just as Quinn storms through the door.

"That complete idiot, I'm going to- Oh, hello Brittany."

Quinn looks between the two of them, but thankfully whichever idiot is currently the cause of her bad mood is doing a good job distracting her from noticing the absolute mess Brittany's hair is. And the hickey starting to form on Brittany's neck…

"Which particular idiot are you referring to now?" Santana asks, absent-mindedly crossing her legs, then just about leaping a foot in the air when the pressing together of her thighs shocks another jolt of arousal through her. She shifts slightly in her seat, feeling the inside of her thighs start to get sticky.

Santana glances at Brittany, who is pointedly not looking at her, but she has a faint smirk on her face, so maybe Santana's discomfort isn't as subtle as she thinks.

"Um, it doesn't matter." Quinn says, running a hand through her hair exasperatedly. "Never mind, I'll tell you later. Bye." She spins round and walks back out of the office. Well that was odd.

Brittany shoots a weird look after Quinn, waiting a few seconds to make sure she's not going to come back in, then slides herself in between the desk and Santana's chair.

"That was close." Brittany chuckles, sitting down and settling herself onto Santana's lap.

"Just a bit." Santana laughs, her thoughts derailing when Brittany leans down to kiss her. "Maybe we should stop hooking up at the studio."

"But it's hot almost getting caught." Brittany mumbles, hands sliding into Santana's hair to tilt her head back, and kissing at her neck.

Santana groans, at Brittany's words and the feel of Brittany's hot lips sliding over her throat. "Britt..." She pants, her left arm sliding around Brittany's waist, and her right hand landing on Brittany's jean-covered thigh.

"San…" Brittany mocks back, letting her left hand drift down Santana's front to slide under her shirt and grasp at her hip. Santana moans, and her hand tightens on Brittany's thigh, and begins to inch upwards.

Brittany shudders against her, and then groans her name for real, panting gently into Santana's ear.

"So you want me to fuck you on this desk, huh, Britt?" Santana husks, and smirks at Brittany's answering whimper. She stops her hand's movements a few inches from the crotch of Brittany's jeans and just leaves it there, rubbing circles into the inside of her thigh, like Brittany had done to her.

"I could just set you on the desk right now. I wouldn't even have to move. All I'd have to do is take your pants off, take your underwear off, then I could have you any way I wanted." She continues, biting gently at Brittany's earlobe when the blond's hips jerk.

A muffled moan of what Santana thinks is her name comes from Brittany, her face buried into Santana's neck. Santana can feel Brittany's breath hitting against her neck, and can hear her panting in her ear. She can also hear the sounds of people walking up and down the hallway outside, and Brittany's right, it is fucking hot doing this when there's a chance they could get caught.

"You want to know what I'd do to you Britt?" Santana whispers, squeezing gently at the thigh under her hand. Brittany nods, or at least Santana assumes the jerky head movement is a nod, so she runs her tongue along Brittany's earlobe, biting at it again before continuing.

"I'd push your legs open, so I could see you. All of you. I bet you'd be soaking, you'd be so fucking wet, just for me." Brittany groans, and her hips jerk again, so Santana may be correct in that statement. "I'd kiss up the inside of your thighs, I'd run my fingers and tongue all over your body, until you're shaking, until you're begging me to fuck you."

Brittany moans again, and Santana tries not to let the throbbing between her legs take over her body. It's fun teasing Brittany like this, she's finally got the upper hand.

"And when you do that, when you're begging me to fuck you, I'd start slow. I'd kiss you gently, tease you until you can't take it anymore, until you grab at my head and push me between your legs desperately, and then I'd really fuck you."

Santana is hardly a stranger to dirty talk, but this is so much hotter than the boring usual _oh god fuck me harder_. Don't get her wrong, she would love to hear Brittany screaming that, but having the blond practically incapable of speech, other than the occasional gasped _San_, just from Santana's _voice_, is way_ way_ hotter.

"I bet you'd taste fucking amazing." Santana echoes Brittany's taunts from Breadstix, letting her hand drift another inch closer to Brittany's clothed center. Brittany whimpers, and Santana is about to regale her with a graphic description about where exactly her tongue would go, when there's a knock on the door.

Brittany groans again, not from pleasure unfortunately, and leans back. Santana barely manages to stop herself from flinging herself at the blond. Her hair is still wildly tousled, her lips are bright pink and slightly swollen from Santana's kisses, there's a bruise blossoming on her neck, a second smaller one on her collarbone, and her eyes are the darkest blue Santana's ever seen.

In short, she looks fucking sexy as fuck.

"We're not finished here." Brittany says, staring at Santana's lips and fuck, her voice is pure sex.

"Didn't think so." Santana smirks, kissing the blond chastely one last time before Brittany stands up, wobbling slightly. Santana smacks her gently on the ass as Brittany moves out the way, and Santana goes over to open the door and shout at whoever is on the other side.

"What do you want Meerkat?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Is Brittany with you? We're doing a reshoot of some photos and we need her."

Santana glances over to where Brittany is staring in horror at the marks on her neck in the mirror, and she fights back a chuckle. "Yeah, I'm just talking to her about something, we'll be done in a minute."

Sebastian strolls back down the elevator, and Santana shuts the door, meeting Brittany's glare. "What did you do to me!" She squeaks, flapping a hand around her general neck area.

"Not enough of what I wanted to. I didn't even get to finish my story." Santana smirks, reaching up to gently touch the hickeys. "I would say I'm sorry… But I'm really not. Plus they're fucking hot on you, so."

And they totally are. Give them a few days, and yeah they'll turn into that super hot green and yellow stage, but for now, the bright varying shades of red contrasting against Brittany's pale skin sends a jolt of arousal through Santana. Yeah, hickeys are such a teenage thing, but seeing the marks on Brittany, knowing _she _put them there… It just really turns Santana on in a weird primal way she can't explain.

Brittany covers them up too soon for Santana's liking, buttoning her shirt up to the top.

"How very butch of you." Santana snorts, and just laughs when Brittany shoots back with a comment about her _lesbian power suit._

Brittany heads towards the door, and turns around to look at Santana. "What you said, about us not hooking up here…"

Santana scrunches her eyebrows slightly, wondering where this is going. "Yeah?"

"Does that mean you're not composed to seeing me outside of work, or work related things?"

"Opposed, not composed," Santana automatically corrects, smiling at Brittany's bashful expression. She walks over to Brittany, wrapping her arms around her. "You mean, would I have a problem with seeing your wonderful self somewhere without the threat of Quinn or someone walking in on us?" Brittany nods, and Santana shakes her head. "Of course I want to see you."

"In that case, do you want to hang out on Saturday?" Brittany blurts out, and Santana can feel her fingers fidgeting where they're clasped at the small of Santana's back, a sure signal the blond is nervous. Santana says yes, and Brittany beams, before kissing Santana quickly but intensely, and then exclaims she has to go, and is out the door before Santana can convince her to stay.

Brittany's like a whirlwind. A really hot, sweet whirlwind… _Perhaps this is a bad simile._

Santana's never felt so happy, and safe, or free with someone before. Even with Spencer, yeah she was in love with her, but it didn't feel like this at the beginning with Spencer, that was a gradual thing that built up.

With Brittany, she just came crashing in, demolishing the walls around her heart like a tornado before setting up camp in her heart.

Or maybe, Spencer had been the tornado, destroying Santana, and Brittany is the aftermath, helping to put herself back together.

She needs to lay off the caffeine. She's not even making any sense to herself anymore.

Jesus.

/

The next day, Brittany intercepts her on during the lunch hour, dragging her into the printer room.

"Britt, what are you- Mmf-" Santana is cut off by Brittany's lips pressing against hers eagerly, and her hands drop to the blond's waist, a warm tongue immediately sliding across her lip, pushing impatiently until Santana opens her mouth, and Brittany slides her tongue in.

Brittany kisses her deeply for a minute, running her hands all over every inch of Santana she can reach. Not that Santana minds, of course.

When Brittany eventually pauses the kiss so they can breathe, she doesn't pull away, instead resting her forehead against Santana's.

"Hi." She says quietly, looking into Santana's eyes.

"That's one hell of a hello Britt." Santana laughs, kissing Brittany again quickly before asking if there's any particular reason Brittany pounced on her.

'Not really," Brittany says, playing with the lapel of Santana's blazer. "I just think you look hot today, and I wanted to kiss you." Well that's a good enough explanation for Santana. "Oh and also, for tonight, I have a surprise for you."

"Oh?" Santana says, intrigued.

"Yeah, can I meet you at like, say, 8pm outside the Forever 21 in Times Square? Oh, and don't have like, a huge dinner, cause there's gonna be food involved."

"Sounds perfect to me." Santana says, leaning in to kiss Brittany again, until someone banging on the door breaks them apart.

Fuck's sake, who needs to use the printer during lunch?

/

It isn't until 6.30pm that night, when Santana is standing in the middle of her room, in just her underwear, surveying her entire collection of tight dresses, which are strewn across her bed, trying to decide which one to wear, that she realizes tonight might be a date.

And in true Santana form, she starts panicking slightly. Oh God. What if Brittany thinks it's a date, but Santana plays it safe and acts like it isn't and she offends Brittany? What if Santana does think it's a date, but it's not to Brittany? And what the hell is she going to wear?

After panicking a few more minutes, and narrowing down her dress collection by about half, Santana decides to go and bug Quinn for a bit, since it'll probably calm her down. Plus she needs to borrow her hair curlers.

Strolling into Quinn's room without bothering to knock, Santana pauses and raises and eyebrow at the scene before her. It's almost identical to Santana's, except obviously the dresses strewn across Quinn's bed aren't as tight as Santana's, and probably won't make her look as hot.

"Who are you whoring yourself up for?" Santana asks, laughing as Quinn flings a dress off her bed, only to replace it with one that looks exactly the same.

"Nobody, I'm just hanging out with Rachel, and she said we might go out for drinks, so I'm just trying to decide what to wear."

"That sounds like a tragic Saturday night." Santana deadpans, ignoring the way Quinn huffs at her, and turns to Quinn's dresser, picking the hair curlers up. "I need to borrow these."

"Thank you for asking so politely Santana, of course you can borrow them."

Santana chuckles, and walks towards the door, and then Quinn stops her. "Wait, are you going out? With who?"

Rolling her eyes, Santana turns back to Quinn. "Yes I'm going out. I'm not staying in on a Saturday night, and especially not if you and Berry have plans."

"With who?" Quinn asks again, throwing a few more dresses off her bed.

"Just some girl. I met her last time we were out, and let me tell you, she is worth a repeat performance." Santana lies, then laughs at the way Quinn's nose wrinkles, and she calls Santana disgusting before shooing her back out.

/

She eventually decides on a blue and purple long sleeved dress she hasn't had a chance to wear yet. She bought it on a whim a while ago cause she thought it would make her ass look amazing, as she isn't disappointed as she squeezes into the tight fabric. Tugging some knee high socks and her trusty heeled boots on; she surveys herself in the mirror. Casual enough, at least by Santana's standards, to pass as _just friends_, but if it is a date, then Santana looks hot enough for that.

Quickly doing her hair and make up, she grabs her coat and a bag, before yelling goodbye to Quinn and heading out.

Not wanting to be leered at my creepy old men on the subway, she gets a taxi to Times Square, and texts Brittany once she's standing outside the Forever 21, amusing herself by watching all the tourists blinking around in awe.

_I'm here. On your way? I can't wait to see you :) x_

Okay maybe that last sentence isn't completely necessary, but who cares.

Brittany texts her back quickly saying she's nearly there, so Santana goes back to her people watching.

When she sees Brittany making her way towards her, she thinks her heart stops.

Brittany's gorgeous. Like, seriously fucking gorgeous. She has on ridiculously tight grey jeans that are probably going to cause a serious case of grabby hands for Santana, a tight white v-neck, which, _boobs_, and a navy blue blazer over the top. Really, she's not even that massively dressed up, only a bit more so than usual, but Santana doesn't care, Brittany is just stunning.

The blond beams at her and waves, and Santana has to resist the urge to throw herself at Brittany to give her a kiss, or five, hello.'

"Hey."

"Hey."

They say hello, and just stand smiling like idiots at each other until Brittany ducks her head, and clears her throat. "So, um, the place we're going is like a 25 minute walk. Is that okay, or do you want to take the Subway?"

"No, that's fine. Lead the way Miss. Pierce." Santana says with a ridiculous accent – _why Lopez, why? _– and Brittany giggles and starts walking off, Santana beside her.

As Brittany chatters on about Lord Tubbington, Santana wonders if she should take Brittany's hand. Their hands are brushing together every so often, and Santana wants to, but she's not sure if Brittany would be okay with it.

Christ she's shared a bed with Brittany, made out with Brittany a lot, been groped and done the groping with Brittany, yet she's too scared to do something as small as a simple _handhold._

Except a handhold isn't small at all really. Kissing and sex and all that you can do with a total stranger, and it can feel not weird. Holding hands with someone is strangely more… Intimate.

And Brittany is perfect, and Santana is still a coward.

So she doesn't.

/

"Seriously Brittany?" Santana says, staring up at the bright pink and green logo in front of her.

"Santana, it's probably illegal in at least ten states that you've never had frozen yogurt." Brittany replies, giggling at Santana's unimpressed expression, before grabbing her arm and dragging her into the Pinkberry.

Pulling her up to the counter, Santana is faced with a giant selection of flavors. Brittany excitedly tells her order to the sleepy looking boy behind the counter and he grunts a reply before looking at Santana.

"What would you like, Miss?" He drones, sounding bored.

"Uh…" She glances up at Brittany. "I have no idea. Britt, you just order for me."

Brittany smiles and turns back to the boy, asking for a raspberry and vanilla cup, and Santana tries not to swoon at Brittany remembering an offhand comment she'd made ages ago about raspberries being her favorite fruit.

The boy, Jake according to his nametag, starts making the yogurts, and Brittany nudges her towards the till. "Go find us some seats. I'll pay."

Santana is about to protest, if this _is_ a date, she wants to be a gentleman and pay, but Brittany just nudges her again. "You don't get a choice babe, go, find some seats."

Santana pauses, and Brittany's eyes widen as she realizes what she's said. Ignoring the ridiculous fluttering in her stomach, Santana just smiles, and leans up to kiss Brittany on the cheek, before saying thank you, and walking off to find some seats. She glances back at Brittany, wondering if that was too far, and almost starts laughing at the adorably dumbfounded look on the blond's face. Brittany is too cute for her own good.

/

Brittany brings the two massive tubs of yogurt over to the comfy sofa seats Santana has picked. The Pinkberry isn't very busy, which is a bit strange considering it's a Saturday night, but Santana isn't complaining.

"Thanks,_ babe_." Santana says with a smirk, when Brittany hands her the tub piled high with white and red yogurt, and then laughs when Brittany blushes and mumbles at her to shut up.

"Nope." Santana giggles, popping the p with her lips. "It's cute."

Brittany just smiles shyly, and points her plastic spoon at Santana's tub. "Eat. I want to know what you think about the amazingness that is froyo."

Santana smiles back, and scoops up some of the yogurt. Shoving it into her mouth, her eyes widen. "Oh my God!" She manages to exclaim around the mouthful of yogurt. How ladylike. "This is fucking amazing."

"I told you so." Brittany says triumphantly, digging into her own, very colorful tub of yogurt.

"What the hell did you get?" Santana asks in confusion. Brittany's tub is a weird swirl of blue, red and green. It looks like a pre-schooler's attempt during art class.

"Blueberry, kiwi and strawberry." Brittany says, licking a drop of yogurt off her spoon. "Want to try it?"

Santana nods, still looking suspiciously at the colorful explosion of yogurt, and Brittany scoops some up, holding the spoon out to Santana.

_Oh, bad idea Brittany_. Santana smirks, and leans forward, staring directly into Brittany's eyes from up through her eyelashes as she wraps her lips around the spoon, moaning quietly as she licks the yogurt off. She tries not to laugh at the way Brittany's breath hitches, and her eyes darken as Santana pulls back, licking her lips exaggeratedly once the spoon has slid out from between them.

"G-good?" Brittany stutters, still with her arm outstretched.

Santana licks her lips again, enjoying the way Brittany's eyes don't leave them. "It's pretty good," She shrugs, then leans forward again, lowering her voice. "But I can think of a few things that'd taste a lot better."

Brittany closes her eyes, and mumbles something like _are you trying to kill me_, and Santana laughs, settling back into her seat and digging into her yogurt.

Brittany ruined chocolate cake for her, it's only fair that Santana tries to make it so whenever Brittany sees a Pinkberry, she thinks about Santana.

/

It's about 10.30pm that Santana and Brittany leave the Pinkberry. They walk back to Times Square, chatting and laughing, and calling each other babe, or baby, or honey, until the pet names are escalating into the ridiculous side, with Brittany proclaiming Santana as a _Royal Hottie Biscotti_, and Santana calling Brittany _Pookie Wookie Boo Bear,_ which she sounds just so idiotic saying, it's a while before Brittany can stop laughing long enough to form a reply.

About ten minutes before they reach Times Square, and therefore will have to part ways, Santana swallows her nerves, and reaches out, sliding her hand into Brittany's. The blond doesn't even stutter in her sentence, just squeezes her fingers around Santana's, and Santana just about melts.

/

"Britt," Santana blurts out, just before Brittany flings her arm out to stop a cab. "Was-" Taking a deep breath, she looks at the blond, deciding just to go for it. "Was tonight a date?"

Brittany looks at her, her eyes softening and her lips tugging up into a soft smile, before she slides her arms around Santana's waist to pull her closer. "Well, I asked if you wanted to do something, didn't tell you what it was, took you to a Pinkberry, which okay isn't really that romantic, but it's pink, so," Santana laughs, kissing Brittany gently on the nose, before she continues. "I paid for your yogurt, and if your apartment wasn't like a 20 minute walk away from mine I would totally walk you home and kiss you goodnight right now."

"Yeah?" Santana breathes, wrapping her arms around Brittany's neck.

"Yeah. So uh, I know I mix a lot of words up, but this kinda sounds like a date to me." Brittany smiles nervously, and Santana can't hold back any longer. She leans forward and kisses Brittany, ignoring the whoop of some idiotic college jocks walking past them.

Brittany sighs against her, taking her bottom lip into her mouth and sucking on, Santana moaning softly. Before Santana does something dumb like get them arrested by ripping Brittany's clothes off in public, she breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together.

"In that case, Brittany, thank you for taking me on the best first date I've ever had."

Brittany smiles widely, before saying you're welcome, and kissing a laughing Santana.

/

An hour later, when Santana is snuggled up in bed about to drift off – before midnight on a Saturday night, yeah, she knows – her phone buzzes and lights up.

_I had a great time tonight :) xx_ is lit up on the screen from Brittany, and Santana smiles, warmth flooding through her body as she replies.

_So did I :) definitely best first date ever, babe :P xx_

Brittany replies with a smiley face and two kisses, before another one comes in, saying _Goodnight San :) xxx_

Santana lets the smile take over her face, not even caring how much of an idiot she must look, quickly replying, then putting her phone on the charger, and burrowing further into her pillow.

Because this whole falling in love business?

Yeah, Santana really thinks she can do it.

_Sweet dreams baby :) xxx_


	11. Chapter Eleven

Thank you all SO much for your response to the last chapter :D I'm glad you all liked it :)

This chapter is slightly shorter, and isn't really Brittana-heavy, BUT one of the main problems in Glee canon is the fact they don't focus on friendships at ALL. Bram being a prime example cough cough. Coulda been a great friendship, but nooo.

Anyway, yeah, there's quite a lot of Quinntana, and a bit of Pezberry in this, I'm pretty sure I developed a cavity writing some of the Brittana interactions and I hope the Faberry fans reading this enjoy this chapter :P

ALSO, the next chapter will include their second date and I know what I want to happen, however I know next to nothing about New York City, so if any of my lovely readers live in/are very close to Manhattan and wouldn't mind giving me a hand, drop me a PM :)

In fic rec times, One Spice Short by 2shot is hilarious and I recommend that you immediately read it. The Journal by silverdoe14 is also excellent (another boss/employee romance if that's what attracted you to this :P)

AND IN RANTING ABOUT GLEE TIMES, if anyone watched the (awful) last episode, WHY did they make Ryder be a douche to Unique?! Stop blowing holes in my ship, RIB :(

And to conclude this very long A/N thank you for the reviews/favourites/follows, you're all wonderful :D

Enjoy :)

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Disaster strikes on October 18th.

Santana is still on a ridiculously happy high from her date with Brittany the previous night, but when Quinn bursts into her room at around 6.30pm, her phone in one hand and a look of horror on her face, she ruins Santana's good mood with three words.

"Cosmos closed down."

Santana's jaw drops, and she shoves her laptop out the way so she can sit up from where she's sprawled out on her bed.

"You're joking."

Quinn shakes her head. "I just tried calling to order us dinner, but the guy who picked up said they closed. Friday was their last day."

Santana groan, flopping backwards onto her bed. When Quinn and her moved into their apartment, their first order of business was to find the closest Chinese restaurant that did takeout. Cosmos is, or _was_, only a ten minute walk from their apartment, and they delivered for the many occasions Santana or Quinn were too lazy to go and get it themselves. Which was frequently. And they were _good_.

"So what do you want to do for dinner then?" Santana asks, looking up at Quinn.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Well, _we_ are not going to do anything. _You_, are going to go to the store and pick up some food, and then _you_ are going to make dinner for once, without setting the kitchen on fire like last time."

Santana grumbles about _it was an accident_ and _it was totally the frying pan's fault, not mine_ at Quinn's retreating back, and hauls herself off her bed, looking out her window to check the weather. It's raining. Fantastic.

Rationalizing that she's only going to the store to get some food, she doesn't bother sorting her hair any further than quickly dragging her fingers through it, before grabbing a scarf and the nearest jacket. When she picks up the leather jacket, a blob of white underneath it catches her attention. Thinking _what the hell_, she quickly pulls Brittany's hoodie on and then yanks her jacket on over the top.

Grabbing her phone and purse, Santana checks if Quinn wants anything specific before exiting the apartment, tugging the hood up and wrapping her arms around herself.

Fucking hell it's cold.

/

Once she's picked up some groceries, Santana is walking back to her apartment when she passes a small coffee shop. Due to the fact that she'll probably have hypothermia, pneumonia and a cold by the time she gets home thanks to the fucking rain, she decides to pop in quickly to get some hot chocolate.

Entering the shop, she hopes she isn't dripping water everywhere as she makes her way up to the counter. After ordering a large peppermint hot chocolate with soy milk and no whipped cream – because Quinn's a fussy bitch – and a white hot chocolate for herself, she makes her way down to the little counter, but pauses when she hears a familiar annoying voice.

"Rach, I'm sorry, just, whatever I did, I'm sorry, please, I miss you so-"

"Finn, I miss you too, but we are done. We had our time, and we're not meant to be. I'm sorry I hurt you, and for breaking up with you so suddenly, but I don't want you back."

Santana rolls her eyes at how dramatic Rachel is making dumping the manchild sound. She keeps her back to them, hoping they don't notice her as she continues to eavesdrop.

"Rachel, I don't understand, I thought you wanted us to be together."

Santana bites back a laugh at the though of the constipated look she's sure is on Finn's face, the confused one he gets every time he doesn't get his way. She hears Rachel sigh, and then a scraping of a chair, and Rachel's voice is slightly lower the next time she speaks.

"Finn, I really am sorry but-"

"No, no buts Rachel!" Finn interrupts. "You and I are meant to be, I don't know why you can't see that! Is there someone else?"

"Yes." Rachel immediately answers. Oh? Santana's eyebrows raise, and she probably looks like a complete weirdo to the barista, who is thankfully taking ages to make her drinks, but she doesn't care. Rachel's seeing someone else now? Santana's slightly hurt. Yeah her and Rachel don't get on sometimes, and okay, _maybe_ she insults the little hobbit a bit too much, but they're still _friends_, so why the hell didn't Berry tell her?

"What?" Finn says dumbly. "Who? Do I know him?"

"No, you don't know them Finn, but that's not the point, the point is-"

Finn interrupts again, and Santana is surprised Rachel has managed to refrain from throwing her drink in his face the amount of times he's done so. "So you've just moved on, just like that? I thought you loved me Rachel, how could you do this to me?" He whines.

"Finn I-"

"No Rachel, I don't wanna hear it. Fine, see some other dude, I don't care. You and I are meant to be together, and you're gonna realize that soon enough."

Finn doesn't give Rachel a chance to respond, Santana hears the sound of his chair scraping against the ground, and Rachel's _Finn wait_, and then she sees him storming out of the coffee shop and into the rain.

The barista puts the two drinks on the counter with a mumbled _sorry for the wait_, and Santana debates for a second whether or not to go and talk to Rachel, before giving in and steeling herself for what will probably be a lengthy conversation. Quinn's stomach can wait.

"Hey Berry." Santana announces her presence, sitting down in Finn's vacated seat uninvited.

Rachel's head snaps up in surprise from where she'd buried it in her hands. "Santana? What are you doing here?"

"Was picking up some hot chocolate for Q and me and I happened to overhear your delightful conversation with T-Rex. Gotta say, I'm simultaneously impressed you managed to find someone else with a fetish for dwarves so quickly, and slightly pissed that you didn't tell me."

Rachel just blinks in the wake of Santana rattling off her sentence in one breath, then leans back and picks up her coffee cup. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard Finnocence whining on about how you two are this generations Romeo and Juliet."

"Everybody died in Romeo and Juliet, Santana."

Santana waves a hand dismissively. "Whatever. Point is, I heard him quacking on about how you and him are this huge eternal epic love shit, which might make for an awesomely depressing Broadway play, but in real life you're both pretty awful for each other, no offence or anything." Rachel looks like she's about to protest, but Santana holds a hand up, shushing her. "I also heard you say you're seeing someone else. So come on, details dwarf, I wants them."

"You're worse than Kurt." Rachel groans, rolling her eyes.

Santana lifts a hand to her chest, acting offended. Well, not really acting, she is kinda offended. "That is offensive, I am _not_ as bad as Hummel. I'm your friend; you're supposed to be able to tell me these things. Who is he? Do I know him?"

"Yes, you know them Santana, but that is all I am telling you. It doesn't really matter anyway, I think what I hoped to be a blossoming relationship may have run its course already."

Santana doesn't want to care, at all. But unfortunately, she's known Rachel a painfully long time, and therefore the hobbit has grown on her a tiny bit. Not that she'd admit it out loud. Anyway, Rachel actually looks quite upset at the possibility she might have ruined this potential new relationship, so Santana sighs, and shoves Quinn's drink towards Rachel.

"Here. It's peppermint hot chocolate, and it's supposed to be for Quinn, so yes it's soy, but you look like crap, so I figure this might help. What happened with Mystery Man then?"

Rachel smiles weakly at Santana, and okay, she actually looks really upset. Santana hopes she's not going to like, start sobbing in the middle of the coffee shop, cause that would be too awkward for words. Especially considering how shit Santana is at comforting people.

"For once I'll spare you the details. Shocking, I know." Rachel laughs slightly at the stunned look Santana puts on. "Last time I saw them, we engaged in… Intercourse."

"Sex, Rachel, you can say it. It's not a dirty word."

"We are in public, Santana, I am trying to be polite, which I am aware must be an alien concept to you."

"Whatever Berry, get to the point."

"Yes, as I was saying, we had sex last time I saw them, and well, I woke up the next day and they had left. And I have tried contacting them, but so far nothing has worked."

"You haven't been like, bombarding them with texts and calls have you?" Santana asks, raising an eyebrow when Rachel doesn't answer, instead averting her eyes and taking a sip of the hot chocolate. "Oh God Berry, you have?"

"Not any more than we usually exchanged before." Rachel mutters, keeping her eyes on her cup.

Santana rolls her eyes, and is about to make a comment about Rachel's lack of tact when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Digging it out, she reads the text from Quinn asking what's taking so long and sighs. What a shame, she'll have to stop talking to Berry.

"Look Berry, I have to go, Fabray is getting pissed I'm taking so long, so I'm not gonna sugarcoat this. If he left after you two got it on, that's probably all he was looking for. I'm sure it sucks, but it happens." Santana ignores the voice at the back of her mind that starts listing the names – that she can remember – of the girls she's slept with then snuck out the next morning.

Santana stands up, debating whether or not to get Quinn another hot chocolate, in the end not bothering, and tosses a goodbye over her shoulder to a strangely quiet Rachel, and starts the walk back to her apartment.

/

"What took you so long?" Quinn's head pops over the back of the sofa to glare at Santana when she opens the door.

"Calm your tits Fabray. I bumped into Rachel on my way back." Santana walks into the kitchen and dumps the grocery bag onto the counter, pulling out the pasta and tomato sauce.

"Rachel?" Quinn asks curiously. "What was she doing here?"

"Having coffee with Lumps. He seems to think they're gonna get back together, she shot him down saying she's banging some other dude now, then once Finnept lumbered off she said she thinks whatever was going on with her and mystery guy is over now anyway."

Santana continues opening every cupboard until she finds the pan she's looking for, flings it onto the oven and switches it on. The water Santana then pours into the pan is nearly boiling by the time Santana realizes Quinn hasn't said a word.

Turning around, Santana arches an eyebrow at Quinn, who's sitting in the exact same position, staring blankly at the wall.

"Hello, earth to Fabray? What the hell's wrong with you?"

Quinn blinks, and then looks at Santana. "What was she doing with Finn?"

Santana rolls her eyes, turning back around to open the pasta and dump it into the pan. "Hell if I know, they were just having coffee from what I saw. Finn wanted to get back together, Rachel told him to fuck off, that's all that happened."

She hears Quinn stand up behind her, and Santana is about to ask how much garlic she wants on her pasta, when the blond storms past her, through the kitchen and into the hallway.

"Quinn, where are-" Santana jumps as Quinn slams her bedroom door like a petulant little teenager. "What the fuck Fabray, I'm making you fucking dinner, what the hell are you doing?"

A muffled _I'm not hungry_ floats out of Quinn's room, followed by a _fuck off Lopez_ when Santana asks what the hell her problem is.

_Women_. Puck seems to think that just cause Santana is a girl who likes girls, she can understand them. Nope, not a fucking clue. Mysteries, all of them.

Making her famous spaghetti bolognaise takes another fifteen minutes, and because Santana is such a nice person, she makes enough for two, puts Quinn's into a Tupperware container and shoves it in the refrigerator. If Quinn is hungry after sulking in her room, she can heat it up herself, lazy bitch.

Carrying her plate over to the sofa, Santana settles down and flips her laptop open, shoveling a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. A plus of Quinn barricading herself in her room is that without her yapping on about boring shit Santana doesn't care about, Santana might actually be able to get some work done for tomorrow.

/

Whatever stick, or branch, or entire fucking tree that suddenly got stuck up Quinn's ass the previous night, is apparently still there the next day. When Santana feels like she's done enough work to warrant going for lunch, she wanders down to the photography department to find Brittany and drag her to Starbucks.

Instead, Brittany finds her. Or rather, runs straight into her.

"Watch where you're- Oh, hey Britt." Santana beams, then frowns at Brittany's expression. "What's wrong?"

"Um, I mean this in like the nicest way possible, but what is wrong with Quinn?"

Santana raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Brittany jerks a thumb over her shoulder, and Santana peers around her to see – and hear –Quinn shouting at Unique, Kitty and a few other photographers.

"Uh, what the hell happened, Britt?" Santana asks. Quinn is waving her arms around, gesturing between at a huge box sitting at her feet, Kitty, and Unique. As amusing as the sight is, Santana doesn't particularly feel like being on the receiving end of one of Quinn's bitch fits, so she grabs Brittany's arm and tugs her towards the door before Quinn spots her.

On the walk across the road, Santana discovers Quinn got pissy when an order of some fancy ink for the photocopier arrived, but with no red cartridges.

"Yeah, so the delivery guy says that there wasn't an order put in for any red ones, and Quinn just flies off the doorknob. It was weird. I'm glad you arrived, I needed an escape."

Also on the walk to Starbucks, Santana's hand "accidentally" found its way into Brittany's, but as they walk into the coffee shop, Ryder looking up and waving like a fool at them, they quickly drop hands. Santana ignores the flash of sadness that runs through her, as much as she'd like to keep holding Brittany's hand, she doesn't want to risk Ryder seeing, then blabbing to Unique, who'll then blab to Quinn.

Brittany says hello to Ryder, then turns to Santana, asking what she'd like. Santana orders a cheese and ham Panini, and a coffee, before Brittany asks for a vanilla Frappuccino and a bacon toastie. Once Ryder turns around to start making the coffee, Santana leans up to whisper to Brittany.

"You bought last time, it's my turn now," Brittany looks slightly confused, before realizing _last time _means the date on Saturday. Santana smirks, deliberately lets her gaze fall to Brittany's lips, and continues. "So you go find some seats, _babe_."

Brittany blushes, and Santana giggles, patting the blond on the ass as she walks past, towards some secluded seats over in the corner.

Once Ryder finishes with their order, Santana pays and joins Brittany on the comfy sofa. They spend the next hour chatting, about the Hollidaze project, about Quinn's weird mood – well, Santana rants about that, and Brittany just listens, occasionally nodding – and in what seems to have become a staple of their conversations, calling each other babe, and various other nauseating pet names.

"I don't know what you're talking about, _honey_." Brittany giggles, poking Santana in the side.

"Yes you do, _cupcake_, and as much as I would love to stay here with you, we have to get back. It's nearly 1pm."

Brittany groans dramatically, and Santana laughs, cause how can she not, and gathers up all their rubbish, standing up and walking over to the trashcan. When she turns around to walk back to their table, Brittany is playing about with Santana's phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Brittany says far too quickly for it to actually be nothing, and hands Santana's phone back to her. "Ready to go?" Brittany asks innocently, raising her eyebrows over her coffee cup as she takes a sip.

Santana squints suspiciously at her favorite blond, but doesn't push the issue. Once they're out of the coffee shop, Brittany grabs at her hand again, claiming her fingers are cold. Santana just smiles goofily, and squeezes them tightly for the minute it takes to get back to the studio.

/

Quinn's mood hasn't improved over lunch. Santana walks into her second favorite blond's office to ask something, and retreats a few seconds later after three pens get thrown at her. Apparently Quinn's bad mood means she isn't taking too kindly to being addressed as _yo, got a question for you Fabgay_.

How rude.

Santana literally has no idea what the hell is wrong with Quinn. She briefly entertains the notion of it being because Finn and Rachel had coffee, but can't make any connection. Quinn had said she wasn't secretly in love with Jolly Green, and even if she doesn't want Berry to go back to him, it wouldn't warrant this much of a reaction.

She wracks her brain, trying to think of something, but keeps coming up empty. It might be because of Quinn's mystery lover that she refuses to tell Santana any more about, despite constant prodding. Wanky.

Not that Santana plans on asking Quinn about that today, since if it is, judging from Quinn's mood, something's gone wrong, and Santana would like to live to see her 25th birthday.

Her phone buzzes somewhere between wondering if Quinn's accidentally gotten pregnant and wondering if Quinn finally got laid but it sucked, thankfully distracting her, since thinking about Quinn in relation to sex is a bit weird.

She unlocks her phone without bothering to look at the name, assuming it's her mother bugging her about visiting for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but is met by Brittany's name.

_Have you figured out what I did to your phone yet? :P xxx_

Normally, her phone would list that text as having come from _Britt_. Now, it's come from _The Most Amazing Person In The World_, followed by one of the little iPhone emoticons of a cupcake.

Santana bursts out laughing. It's the kind of ridiculous, immature, cute, _coupley_ shit she would have rolled her eyes and made some scathing comment at four months ago.

But of course, because this is four months later, and because she's falling in love with Brittany, she just laughs, and tries to ignore the urge to rush down the stairs, since the elevator will probably take for-fucking-ever, run into the photography department and fling herself at Brittany.

Once she manages to get her laughter under control, she changes the name back to_ Britt_; on the off chance Quinn sees it.

But she keeps the little cupcake.

/

Santana gets a text just as she's about to leave, from Quinn, informing her she's staying late to finish some paperwork. Normally, Santana would let it go. But considering Quinn's delightful mood, coupled with the fact Quinn only ever works late if something's bugging her and she wants to distract herself, she doesn't.

Knocking on Quinn's door, before opening it slowly and poking her head inside. Making sure she's not about to get hit with any flying stationery, she sees Quinn stood at the window, staring out into the rainy New York evening.

"Hey Q. Uh, I'm leaving now, you sure you're staying here?"

Quinn just nods, and Santana huffs. Rolling her eyes, she takes a deep breath to unleash a Lima Heights rant at her best friend. "Look Q, I don't know what the fuck's pissed you off, but either fix whatever you did, cause let's face it, you probably did something, or get the fuck over it. I don't care if you want to be a moody bitch at home, but here? You leave your bruised ego at the studio door. You've been terrorizing all our staff the whole day, and that's a giant fucking no in my books."

Santana stops abruptly when Quinn turns around from the window. Quinn might have slapped a load of make up to attempt to cover it up, but there's no mistaking the fact she's been crying.

Santana swallows. Quinn never cries. Santana can't remember the last time she saw Quinn crying. Alcohol was probably involved.

"Shit, Q, I- Are you okay?" It's a bit of a dumb question, especially considering Quinn-

"I'm fine, Santana." Yep, the only thing Quinn does less of than crying, is talking about her feelings. "I just- I'll tell you when I get home. I just need some time to think." Well, maybe not.

Santana does her best concerned face – she is genuinely concerned about Quinn, but she's hardly a fucking expert in this department – and says okay, and goodbye softly, before closing the door and walking back towards the elevator.

/

Two hours later, Santana has everything set up perfectly. Now she just needs Quinn to sashay her prissy ass back home.

Speak of the blond devil.

When she hears keys in the lock, Santana quickly replies to Brittany's text with _I'd love to meet Tubbs, he could probably recommend some very good restaurants to me :P Okay, Q just got home, gotta go, see you tomorrow cupcake :) xxx _and smiles like an idiot when Brittany replies almost instantly. _Don't be mean San, he's sensitive about his weight, I've told you this before. Okay, hope everything goes well, see you tomorrow honey :) xxx_

Chucking her phone onto the sofa, she leaps into the hallway to ambush Quinn before she can hole up in her room all night.

Quinn looks suspiciously at her, slowly taking her scarf and coat off. "What do you want?"

"We are having a movie night." Santana announces. Quinn snorts, and bends down to start taking off her boots.

"We are? I have a lot of work to do Santana."

"I got Chinese." Quinn's head snaps up so fast Santana is surprised she doesn't get whiplash. "It's not quite as good as Cosmos, but it's pretty fucking awesome. Oh, and I have a nice new bottle of make-an-ass-of-myself that requires breaking open."

Quinn laughs, pausing outside her bedroom to fling her bag onto the bed, before pushing past Santana and making a beeline for the piled boxes of takeout. "Did you get Cuervo gold or silver?"

/

They're watching West Side Story, or rather; they're reminiscing about senior year, and loudly singing along. While shoveling their food into their mouths. Ladylike.

Santana is clutching her sides, trying not to pop a vein laughing at Quinn's horrific attempt at rolling her R's during America. "That, Fabray, is why you were on the Jets, and not the Sharks."

"Oh God, do you remember one night Puck completely forgot the lines, and when he was supposed to say _better get rid of your accent_, there was just a massive pause." Quinn laughs, ignoring Santana's insult.

"Christ, I'd forgotten about that. Mr. Schue was so unimpressed with him." Santana laughs, standing up to gather the finally empty takeout boxes up, and carrying them over to the kitchen. She dumps them in the trashcan, and then grabs two shot glasses from the glass cupboard.

Settling back down next to Quinn, she opens the tequila and pours two shots, while Quinn opens the huge bag of marshmallows Santana bought earlier. Priorities.

Quinn sips at her shot – freak – while Santana quickly downs hers, and they make fun of Puck a bit more, until on the screen Tony and Maria start singing Tonight. Santana glances sideways at Quinn, who is preoccupied trying to shove three marshmallows into her mouth at once, and decides she'll try and slyly bring Rachel up. She convinced Quinn's horrible mood has something to do with either Jolly Green or Streisand, but what Quinn's pissed about exactly, she has no idea yet.

"You know, I gotta give it to the hobbit, she killed it as Maria every night." Santana comments casually. "Tonight, Somewhere, A Boy Like That, I Feel Pretty…" She trails off, looking sideways at Quinn, who stiffens visibly, slowing her chewing of the marshmallows down.

Santana subtly looks around to make sure there's no sharp objects Quinn can attack her with, before asking the question she's been dying to ask since Quinn walked through the door. "So you gonna tell me what's going on with you and Berry anyway?"

Quinn freezes for a few seconds, before swallowing the massive wad of marshmallow, and keeps her eyes on the screen.

Santana huffs. "Look Q, I'm not stupid, your delightful mood only started when I told you about Finn and Rachel, so what's-"

"We had sex." Quinn blurts out, dropping her eyes to her lap, picking at her fingernails nervously. Santana blinks. And then smacks Quinn on the arm. "Ow! What the hell Lopez?"

"Seriously Q? I thought your cheating days were behind you? And Finn, really? That's who you choose to accompany you on our magical voyage back into the world of being an normal adult?" Santana rolls her eyes.

Quinn glares at her, rubbing her arm where Santana hit it. "I didn't have sex with Finn." She snaps, and Santana is confused for a second, since saying _we had sex_ kind of implies Quinn, you know, _had sex_, before it sinks in what the blond is saying. Santana's jaw drops, like literally, her mouth falls open and she sits staring at Quinn like a goldfish. No fucking way is the blond in front of her implying what Santana thinks she's implying.

"I had sex with Rachel." Quinn sighs, her eyes firmly back on her hands, which are playing with the hem of her jumper she changed into just before the movie started.

Holy shit. Santana blinks, stunned. There's not a lot that can render her completely speechless, but _this_, Quinn and Rachel, _Rachel_ and _Quinn_… There's about a million questions flying through Santana's mind, and eventually she manages to splutter out a dumbfounded _when?_

"Saturday night." Quinn says, reaching for the tequila bottle. Oh they are definitely going to need alcohol. Especially considering the unwelcome image invading Santana's head of Quinn and Rachel going at it. Gross.

"Explain." Santana eventually manages to say, accepting the shot glass Quinn hands her, tossing it back immediately.

Quinn downs hers quickly, before grabbing a marshmallow and snuggling further back into the cushion she's propped up against. "Um, you remember I said I was going to Rachel's?" Santana nods. "Well Kurt was out with Sebastian all night, so we just decided to stay in, and well, we slept together." Quinn says, nibbling at the marshmallow.

"Wait, so was all this gay just completely out of the blue, or have you guys been going at it behind Finnept's back for a while?" Santana asks. She's still in shock about it, but figures while Quinn's willing to talk, she may as well get the details. Not _those _details though, God.

Quinn bites her lip nervously. "No, Saturday was the first time we had sex, but…" She trails off, glancing at the tequila bottle until Santana grabs it and pours them both another shot. "It's kind of been going on for a while."

"What do you mean _it_? And for how long?" Santana asks, putting the bottle back on the table and picking up the enormous bar of Hershey's. Desperate times and all that.

Quinn sighs, accepting the piece of chocolate Santana breaks off for her. "Do you remember Blaine's birthday? Or well, the morning after?" Santana nods, still holding a grudge against Finn for using her mug that morning. Quinn raises an eyebrow, apparently waiting for Santana to make some connection.

Then she does.

"Oh my God! The hickey? That was _Rachel_?" Santana screeches, dropping the Hershey's in shock. Quinn nods, smirking slightly at the shocked look Santana is sure is on her face. "And this, you and Rachel, it's been going on since then?" Santana asks, just to confirm. Quinn nods again.

"We kissed for the first time like a week before, and she completely freaked out since she cheated on Finn. I didn't see her again until Blaine's birthday, and when Finn drove us back here, she told him to sleep on the couch and she dragged me into my bedroom and-"

"Okay, okay!" Santana yelps, holding a hand up. "As weird as it is trying to process you and Berry, I do not need the graphic details. At all."

Quinn giggles. "Because you've always spared me the play-by-plays of the girls you've slept with?"

Santana snorts. "There's a difference, the girls I bang are hot. Rachel's…" Santana trails off. She doesn't particularly want to offend Quinn. "Rachel's not my type." She eventually settles on.

"Santana your type is a vagina and a pulse." Quinn deadpans, arching an eyebrow and reaching for the chocolate again.

"Whatever, details." Santana waves a hand around. "So what happened after Blaine's birthday?"

"Well, Rachel was still pretty upset about cheating on Finn, but it kinda just kept happening. Like, after every night out we'd either go to her apartment or here, or one of us would visit the other, and we'd just make out like two teenagers."

Santana is tempted to make a snarky comment, but considering that's basically what her and Brittany are doing, she decides to keep her mouth occupied by shoving another marshmallow in it.

"Then after Rachel and Finn broke up, we went on a date. Like, an actual date."

"Get it, Fabray."

"Shut up. Anyway, yeah we've been dating since then, and we've been fine up until Saturday."

Santana suddenly remembers what Rachel said on Sunday. "Oh my God, you bolted the morning after, didn't you? Classy Quinn, real classy."

"Shut up Santana, I feel awful enough about that as it is." Quinn grumbles. Santana prods her in the leg with a toe, urging her to continue. "I just, I panicked, okay? Rachel's just so perfect and amazing, and I'm just not."

Santana gulps, glancing towards her phone which she saw light up with a new text from Brittany about twenty minutes ago. What Quinn's saying, Santana could easily say herself. Brittany is basically perfect to her, and Santana would probably be a shit girlfriend. She's an awful enough person as it is; she's still confused as to what the hell Brittany even sees in her.

"I really, really like Rachel, San, and I freaked out, and I ran. And yeah, I've probably ruined everything between us cause I panicked, but then you told me she had coffee with Finn, and I just got angry-"

"Wait," Santana interrupts. "You haven't ruined everything, you complete tool."

Quinn pauses. "What?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "When I saw Rachel on Sunday, she told me she thought _she'd_ ruined everything." Quinn just stares blankly at her. Jesus Christ, does she have to do everything herself? "You think you've ruined it, and she thinks she's ruined it, why don't you just talk to her? Christ Q, it's not often I'm the voice of reason."

Quinn blinks, before lunging for her phone sitting on the table. She dashes off into her bedroom, shouting _I'm calling Rachel_, _back in a minute_ over her shoulder, and Santana takes the opportunity to check her own phone.

_I miss you :( xxx_ is displayed on the screen when she opens up Brittany's text, and Santana tries not to melt. She types back that she misses Brittany as well, and quickly stuffs her phone into her pocket when Quinn comes waltzing back into the room, a grin on her face so wide Santana is concerned she may break her jaw.

"I'm assuming she answered the phone then?" Santana states dryly as Quinn flings herself back onto the sofa and makes a grab for the marshmallows.

"Yes she did. We're having coffee tomorrow at lunch so we can talk, clear the air."

"Well, I'm happy for you Fabgay. About time you embraced your inner lesbian." Santana tries to snark, but it's laced with affection that Quinn sees right through. She grins at Santana before launching forward and grabbing her into a hug, Santana yelling out a muffled _get off me, you freak!_

"Aww, I love you too Santana."

/

The following day, Quinn barges into Santana's office just as Santana is about to leave.

"Women!" She groans, throwing herself dramatically into the seat opposite Santana's desk. "I will never understand them!"

"Been there." Santana deadpans, switching her computer off and shoving some papers into her bag. "What happened with you and Berry?"

"Well I saw her at lunch, and she doesn't hate me yet, which is always good, but she told me she needed time."

Santana stands up and looks down her nose at Quinn. "Well what's the problem?"

"Um, did you not hear me? She said she needs time! Time for what? I said I was sorry!" Quinn rants.

"Quinn, you guys had sex and then you left her. I don't know, or want to know the details of your relationship, but I'm pretty sure she was kinda hurt by that. You can't have expected her to just fall into your arms just like that, can you?" Santana says, laughing at Quinn's disgruntled expression.

"Whatever. Can we go to Breadstix for dinner, or do you have plans?" Quinn huffs, changing the subject.

Santana glances at her phone. She'd texted Brittany asking if she wanted to do something an hour ago, but gotten no reply. It's not like she can get rid of Quinn to go find her employee slash friend slash sort of girlfriend – Santana's heart totally doesn't skip a beat there – and make plans with her, plus, it's Breadstix.

"When have you ever known me to turn down Breadstix?" Santana asks, arching an eyebrow. "You're paying though."

/

After Breadstix – which Quinn totally doesn't pay for, claiming she left her purse at the studio – Santana drags her best friend to Corcoran's Bar, a classy cocktail bar a few blocks from Breadstix.

A few years ago, the owner, Shelby Corcoran, contacted Lopez-Fabray Design asking them to rebrand her bar, and after Quinn and Santana obviously said yes, and gave the bar's marketing campaign the overhaul it so desperately needed, Shelby gives them half price drinks whenever they visit the bar. Which is always helpful.

Another perk of Corcoran's Bar is the karaoke nights it holds every Tuesday. They're always quite packed, and Santana figures she can cheer Quinn up by singing with her. Or demand Quinn sings on her own, and the inevitable applause she'll get can cheer her up.

While normally Berry's massive beak can smell a karaoke competition within a 500 mile radius, Santana remembers Rachel yapping on about having an audition for some Broadway play Wednesday morning at an ungodly hour, so she knows the hobbit will be terrorizing Kurt at home, or _practicing_, as she calls it. And making a lot of honey infused tea. So there's no chance of them bumping into her here.

They arrive at the bar, and Santana shoos Quinn away to find some seats, and strolls up to the bar. She orders a raspberry margarita and a strawberry margarita, and pays the bartender before joining Quinn at a small table near the front of the room.

On the small stage, there's a guy who looks a bit like a chubby version of Kurt singing a song Santana doesn't recognize, and she tunes him out as she takes a sip of her margarita, before rooting around in her bag until she finds her phone. There's a text from Brittany, and Santana quickly tilts the screen away from Quinn, but thankfully the blond is more focused on her own drink.

_Hey San, forgot to reply sorry! I'd totally love to see you, but I went out for dinner with the others. We're at some bar now, although obviously I'd prefer to be with you :P Xxx_

She's about to reply when Quinn nudges her. "Is that Tina?"

Santana looks up and in the direction Quinn is pointing, and sees Tina and Mike stood at the bar. A second later Ryder and Unique appear next to them, followed by Sam and Brittany. Santana gulps, hopefully not audibly, at the sight of Brittany.

She's wearing shorts, well, a tiny scrap of black denim that Santana thinks are supposed to be shorts. They're probably illegal in a few more conservative states. She drags her gaze up and down the endless expanses of smooth skin that are Brittany's legs, trying not to drool, or get turned on. She fails miserably at the latter when she remembers how the bare skin of Brittany's thighs felt under her hands, and imagines how they'd feel wrapped around her waist, or her neck, and-

"Santana?" Thank God for Quinn, and her annoying nasally voice, which breaks Santana from her increasingly dirty thoughts.

"What?" Santana says dumbly, blinking and shifting her leering gaze into a normal look at Quinn, who's now standing.

"Are you coming?" _Give me a few minutes with Brittany and I will be._

Okay she really needs to stop thinking like this, before she ends up losing control and pouncing on the blond innocently stood at the bar.

Santana downs the remains of her margarita, making a note to make sure her next one is of the frozen variety, since she needs something to curb the heat now shooting through her body, before standing up and following Quinn through the crowd.

Quinn reaches the bar before Santana does, greeting them all with a loud hello, and while Brittany is giving Quinn a hug, the blond finally notices Santana. Unique thankfully distracts Quinn asking her what she wants to drink, and Santana takes the time to fully appreciate the rest of Brittany's outfit. In addition to the illegal shorts, she's wearing a black and white striped top with a red heart emblazoned on it, and as Santana discovers once the blond removes her jacket, suspenders.

Brittany really should have warned her, since Santana is not prepared for the flood of arousal she feels at the sight of them.

"Hi Santana." Brittany says, smirking slightly like she knows exactly what effect she's having on Santana. To be fair, she probably does.

"Hi," Santana pauses, and clears her throat. "Hi Brittany." Well clearing her throat was absolutely pointless, since her voice is just as husky as before.

Brittany giggles, and asks Santana what she wants to drink. Santana asks for another margarita, and once they all have their drinks, they make their way over to a bigger table that Sam and Ryder are already sitting at.

Santana sits down in between Sam and Brittany, Quinn on the other side of Sam. Almost as soon as they've sat down, Sam and Ryder jump up, grabbing Mike and dragging him towards the empty stage. Santana vaguely hears Tina mutter _oh God_ under her breath, before a song Santana definitely recognizes sounds throughout the bar.

"You put the boom boom into my heart, you send my soul sky high when your loving starts!" Sam starts singing, while the three of them start hopping around on the stage in some kind of strange dance. Well Mike can actually dance from what Santana can see, Sam and Ryder not so much.

"But something's bugging me, something ain't right, my best friend told me what you did last night!" Ryder takes over from singing, and Mike joins in on the chorus, the three of them somehow managing to look slightly coordinated dancing around.

"Wake me up, before you go go, don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!"

They're decent enough singers, but they just look so ridiculous leaping around that Santana can't help but burst out laughing, joining Brittany and Quinn in clapping along. Tina is cheering next to her and Unique is shaking her head at Ryder's "moves", but smiling all the same.

Sam's voice cracks slightly trying to sing _I wanna hear that high,_ and Ryder forgets some of the words, but they finish the song without completely butchering it, bowing dramatically at the end to the applause coming from the crowd.

"I can't believe I'm dating you." Unique laughs when Ryder sits down beside her.

He kisses her on the cheek, taking a gulp of his beer before turning his attention to the rest of the table. "Well now that we've suitably embarrassed ourselves, ladies I think it's your turn."

Santana is about to protest, but Quinn beats her to it. "Since there's five of us girls, I think it should be obvious what we sing?"

The boys look slightly confused as the five of them stand up and make their way towards the stage, but recognition spreads across their faces when the weird tribal beat starts playing, and Tina and Unique start to harmonize on the beginning _la la la's_.

"When you're feeling, sad and low, we will take you, where you gotta go." Brittany starts singing, and Santana is instantly reminded of the last time she heard the blond sing. This being a slightly different situation, she chooses not to turn Spice Up Your Life into a ballady love song that she can slow dance on a rooftop to, and drags Quinn to the front of the stage.

"Colors of the world!"

"Spice up your life!"

"Every boy and every girl!"

"Spice up your life!"

"People of the world!"

"Spice up your life!"

Brittany doesn't bother singing in the chorus, just starts dancing in the middle of the stage, and Santana has a difficult time remembering to sing and not stare at the blond with her jaw on the floor. Brittany can _dance. _Santana's not sure how she never noticed before, although the few times she's danced with Brittany she was pressed right up against the blond, so you can forgive Santana's mind for being on other things.

After the second verse and chorus however, when Unique and Tina start listing off the different kinds of dances, Brittany proceeds to do each one in fast succession, Santana's jaw actually does drop. Although Quinn's and half the audience's does as well, and she thinks Sam may be drooling into his beer, but she can't really blame any of them.

Fucking hell, Brittany is perfect at everything.

They finish the song, and get far more applause than the boys did, a fact Tina and Unique proceed to rub into their boyfriend's faces when they sit back down at the table.

Sam compliments Santana and Quinn on their singing, and Quinn proceeds to launch into a tale about Glee Club, none of which Santana is listening to, as she's a lot more focused on Brittany smiling at her.

"I didn't know you could dance like that." She murmurs to the blond, shuffling closer until their thighs are pressed together.

"Oh you have no idea how flexible I am." Brittany smirks, dropping her gaze to Santana's lips, then boobs, and Santana shudders, mind dive bombing into the gutter.

It's hardly fucking fair, that Brittany just has to _look_ at her, for Santana to get turned on. Not fucking fair.

"Santana!" She whips her head round to look at Quinn, ignoring the heat she can still feel coming off Brittany, the blond is sitting so close.

"What?"

"What song from Glee do you want to sing?"

"Excuse me?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "If you were paying any attention, which you clearly weren't, you would have heard me say that you and I are going to sing something from Glee Club. So, what song should we wow them with? Auditioning? Senior Prom?"

Santana ponders for a second, before shooting up, grabbing Quinn's hand and dragging her towards the stage. She whispers to the DJ what song they're singing, and Quinn stares at her when the first notes of the piano ring out.

"San, you are aware we didn't duet this, we had Rachel with us?"

"Don't care, you basically sang I Say A Little Prayer on your own, and Take My Breath Away is a little gay, so we're doing this. Now sing, bitch!" Santana answers, shoving Quinn towards the microphone stand.

"Head under water, and they tell me, to breathe easy for a while." Quinn starts off slightly shaky, but eventually gets into it, and okay maybe singing a song called Love Song is just as gay as Take My Breath Away.

Anyway.

"I learned the hard way, that they all say things you wanna hear." Santana starts singing the second verse, and glances towards their table, a smile taking over her face at the massive grin and thumbs up Brittany is shooting her way. Sam and Ryder are cheering loudly, Tina and Unique clapping along while Mike is dancing in his seat.

"Promise me, that you'll leave the light on," Santana wraps an arm around Quinn's shoulder, swaying them in the spot while they harmonize on the bridge, and God, she is going to have to have words with Berry if the dwarf doesn't forgive Quinn soon. Quinn looks ridiculously happy, but Santana knows she'd be even happier singing this with Rachel. She's not sure if she should be offended by that.

They finish the song, bow, and join the others at the table, the other six congratulating them.

"National champions, baby!" Santana brags, holding her fist up for Quinn to bump.

The smile on Quinn's face might have fooled anybody else, but Santana can see right through it.

Yeah, she'll definitely be having words with Berry.

/

Three rounds of drinks, a few good singers, and a few not so good singers later, a guy on stage has just finished serenading his girlfriend with a Zac Brown Band song, which, just, ew.

Santana chooses to ignore the fact that she'd totally do the same for Brittany. In private of course, not in front of all these nosey people. And Quinn.

"Santana, you should sing something again." Tina says, and Santana snorts, taking a sip of her drink.

"Why?"

"Cause your voice is almost as beautiful as you are." Brittany whispers next to her, and Santana thanks the previous round of shots that Quinn doesn't hear _that_ little comment.

"Okay fine, fine, what do you want me to sing, Miss Chang?" She snarks, looking over at Tina, who tells her to sing something jazzy, or slow, or ballady. Maybe Tina's had too much to drink.

Santana groans, rolling her eyes, but gets up, deliberately swaying her hips more than usual for Brittany's benefit on the walk up to the stage. Picking up the list of song choices she glances up at Brittany through her eyelashes and feels a jolt of arousal at the _come fuck me_ look the blond is sending her. Not going to help her concentration.

The book of songs is open at the Z section, and Santana is about to flip towards A to find an Amy Winehouse or Adele song, but a song just below the Zac Brown Band section catches her eye, and she shows it to the DJ, not thinking about it. If Quinn starts to suspect something she can just blow it off as hearing the song in a movie or something, and not every song has to mean something.

Then she catches Brittany's eye, and okay, the song totally means something, but what Quinn doesn't know won't hurt her.

The piano starts playing, and Santana takes a deep breath. She's not entirely sure why she's nervous, she's sang much more difficult song, with a lot of choreography, in front of audiences way bigger than this before. Although those audiences never included someone she's falling in love with, and none of the songs referenced falling in love.

_No pressure or anything, Lopez._

Santana swallows her nerves, and starts singing. "Solve me, and all my problems you call me, late nights in Harlem, the street speaks, like it's a starlit ghost."

She deliberately lets her gaze sweep around the bar, knowing that if it lands on Brittany too soon she won't be able to look away, and Quinn isn't drunk enough to not notice that Santana's singing to someone.

"And always, you're throwing glances my way, you look at me like you could save me, you could you know." Santana is instantly reminded again of that evening on the rooftop with Brittany.

_Don't look at me like that Britt. I don't need saving._

_I wouldn't mind being your hero._

In the brief pause before the next line, Santana opens her eyes and fixes them on Brittany. Her breath hitches at the way the blond is gazing up at her, like she knows Santana is singing about her. To her.

There's no lust in Brittany's gaze, she's just staring up at Santana with an awestruck, affectionate, _loving_ look on her face, and Santana can't help the soft smile, or the increase in her heartbeat.

"And oh look how you shine, I know I could love you if we tried, so try." Santana lets her voice carry through the bar, repeating the _try_ three more times, shutting her eyes as she starts the second verse so she doesn't keep staring at Brittany like the lovestruck fool she totally is.

"I've been, saving up for this moment, spent too long in my own head, now I'm breaking through. And always, I find I'm ending up sideways, it's two steps forward and one way to get to you." Santana opens her eyes, starting to repeat _oh look how you shine_, just in time to catch Brittany subtly brushing a tear off her cheek.

For a second, Santana is worried Brittany's upset, but the smile Brittany aims at her after reassures her.

Starting into the bridge, Santana closes her eyes again, the eye contact with Brittany tugging something inside her chest, and flooding her whole body with warmth. "We left the dust to settle, anywhere it wants to fall, making patterns on the window, leaving marks upon the wall."

Santana isn't sure how you know when you've stopped falling, and you're actually _in_ love, but if it's anything like the feeling that takes over her body when she reopens her eyes and fixes her gaze on Brittany, she has no idea why she's been so bitter, so against the idea of love all these years.

Well she does, a psycho ex girlfriend breaking your heart and a Father leaving you can do that to you, but anyway.

The way Brittany makes her feel is just… It's indescribable.

Maybe she does need saving. Although maybe _saving_ is the wrong word. _Healing_ sounds a little ridiculous, and thinking Brittany could _fix_ her just gets that annoying Coldplay song stuck in her head.

Her heart never fully healed after Spencer broke it, so maybe Brittany is the glue that'll help Santana put it back together.

That's a slightly less ridiculous metaphor, so Santana settles on that one.

"We spent our time in silence, but there's something you should know, that I would hold you like the window, and I would catch you like the snow, so try."

Santana keeps the eye contact with Brittany, letting the last repetition of _try _ring out alongside the final piano note, and blinks, ducking her head shyly when the entire bar starts clapping. She hears Sam and Ryder whooping and hollering over the noise, and when she looks over to the table, they're all standing, applauding her as she bows and makes her way off the stage.

Sam tugs her into a one armed hug, shouting _damn woman you've got some pipes on you_ and Quinn fist bumps her again, saying _not bad, I guess._

A group of giggling drunk girls stumble onto the stage, and the group of seven sit down to watch them destroy _Lady Gaga bitches!, _Brittany and Santana sitting at the end of the sofa.

Underneath the table, Brittany's fingers land on her thigh, and Santana is about to bat them away in case Quinn sees, but instead of teasing the shit out of her like Santana expected them to do, Brittany just finds Santana's own hand and tangles their fingers together.

"Wow. You are…" Brittany trails off, smiling softly at Santana and rubbing her thumb gently along the back of Santana's hand. "You're amazing." Brittany says, and she just sounds so awestruck, so proud of Santana, that she can't help but duck her head, away from the intensity of Brittany's gaze. She feels heat rush to her cheeks, and then throughout her chest when Brittany whispers _I really want to kiss you._

"Restroom?" Santana whispers back, and okay, still not the classiest of places, but she feels like she's going to explode if she doesn't kiss Brittany soon. Brittany nods, and Santana stands up, making a beeline for the ladies.

Brittany appears behind her a minute later, and Santana doesn't bother saying hello, just wraps her arms around Brittany's neck and pulls her down to kiss her.

Santana sighs at the first press of Brittany's lips against hers, warmth spreading throughout her from her chest, and also from Brittany wrapping her arms around Santana's waist, tugging them closer until they're pulled flush together.

Brittany whimpers into her mouth, and Santana takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into Brittany's mouth, running it along the blond's bottom lip before pushing it in. Brittany groans again, sliding her hands down to Santana's ass and squeezing, walking Santana backward into the closest cubicle. Shutting and locking the door behind her, Brittany spins Santana round to press her against the door, and Santana gasps out Brittany's name when the blond starts pressing soft kisses along her throat, sucking gently at the hammering pulse point before dragging her lips back up to Santana's mouth.

Brittany kisses her hotly for a few more minutes, stroking her tongue deep into Santana's mouth, running her hands up and down Santana's side, squeezing at her ass, tangling in her hair, until Santana starts slowing it down, until they're just softly pressing their lips against each other, fitting together perfectly.

"That song was amazing." Brittany whispers against Santana's lips, still close enough that Santana can feel Brittany's lips forming the words.

"Well I had a lot of inspiration." Santana replies, leaning forward the tiny distance between them to gently kiss Brittany again.

Brittany just smiles against Santana's lips, pressing her body into Santana's and deepening the kiss. Santana sighs, pushing her lips harder against Brittany's, trying to pour every feeling she can't name she has for the blond into the kiss.

Santana knows there's a difference between loving someone, and being in love with someone, but she doesn't have the first idea about how to tell the difference between them.

But for the first time, in an empty bathroom stall, pressed up against the woman of her dreams, she lets herself fully think what she thinks she's been feeling for quite some time now.

_I love her._

* * *

Songs used in this chapter aaaare;

The boys sang Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by Wham!

The girls sang Spice Up Your Life by Spice Girls (shame on you if you didn't already know that :P)

Quinn and Santana sang Love Song by Sara Bareilles

Santana sang Try by Zach Berkman, which is perfect and amazing and wonderful and you should all go and download it immediately :)


	12. Chapter Twelve

Sup y'all. You get an early chapter this week cause I'm away visting the bff on Wednesday and Thursday, which are my normal writing days :)

I've barely checked this over, cause I'm like half asleep at this point, but I hope you like it all the same :)

Fic recs for you: The Journal by silverdoe14 updated and it's flawless. Room 47 by LittleNormandy updated as well, and seriously if you like Brittana and aren't reading that, get on it :P Also A Spanner In The Works, You Know by acidglue234 is really good and I highly recommend :D

Hope you enjoy, and leave a review if you're feeling kind :P

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE

Santana is happy for Quinn. She is, really. Quinn deserves to be happy after her string of destructive relationships in high school and the beginning of college, followed by her transformation into a celibate nun for the past few years.

Santana guesses she's happy for Rachel as well. The dwarf might get on her nerves more than any human being should be capable of, but she's glad Rachel's finally found someone that makes her happy.

But if she walks into her own fucking kitchen to see a half naked Rachel perched on the countertop, while an equally half naked Quinn has her tongue down her throat instead of making breakfast one more time, forget Lima Heights, she's going to go all Texas Chainsaw on them.

"Good morning Santana!" Rachel trills once they've finally detached themselves, and Santana just grunts in reply, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard and shuffling over to the coffee machine.

It's been just over a week since the night at Corcoran's where Santana totally didn't serenade Brittany, and she's barely seen the blond since. They've been extremely busy filming commercials for Hollidaze, since Holly is apparently very fussy when it comes to how she looks on camera, and literally the only times Santana is free to see Brittany is during their lunch break, which Santana usually has to cut short to get back to the studio.

Although on Monday's lunch break, Brittany informed Santana of how much she liked their little _coffee dates_, which almost gave Santana a heart attack. Brittany went to the effort of planning a special date for Santana, that actually meant something, and all Santana can do is give her forty minutes at Starbucks a few times a week. Again, she wonders what the hell Brittany sees in her.

She knows she'll be able to see Brittany on Saturday, when her and Quinn throw their annual Halloween party – which is pretty fucking epic, if Santana does say so herself – but they'll be surrounded by shitloads of people since Quinn appears to have invited half of New York. Their apartment is not that big, Jesus.

Then again, everyone – and by everyone Santana means Quinn – will be hammered, so nobody will notice if Santana and Brittany happen to disappear at the same time.

Anyway.

She wants to take Brittany on a second date, like a real date, but she has no clue what to do for it. Or even how to ask Brittany. Jesus. Showing a girl a good time, that's what she's good at. All the romantic shit? Not so much.

Santana pours herself a cup of coffee, and gladly accepts the plate of pancakes Quinn hands her, before slumping into a chair at the kitchen table and opening the newspaper. She's munching on the last of the pancakes, reading an article about an art show in Brooklyn that she's tempted to go to, when she realizes how quiet it is.

And with Quinn and Rachel in the same room, when it's quiet, that's when Santana starts to worry.

She looks up, and sees them stood on the other side of the table, staring at her in unison. Terrifying.

"Can I help you?" Santana asks, raising an eyebrow at them over her mug.

Rachel clears her throat, glancing nervously at Quinn, who just gives her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. Nauseating. "Well Santana, taking into account you are Quinn's closest friend, and despite our… Differences, I consider you a close friend as well, and also because you and Quinn happen to live together, we felt you should be the first to know."

"You get her pregnant, Q?" Santana deadpans, smirking at Rachel's annoyed huff and Quinn's awful attempt at hiding a smile.

"Uh no, Santana, however, we are now together. Officially." Quinn continues on from Rachel, holding up their joined hands.

"Fascinating." Santana says, going back to the newspaper.

"That's it?" Rachel squeaks indignantly. "_Fascinating?"_

Santana rolls her eyes, finishing her coffee and standing up. "Congratulations, whatever, you two are like a match made in annoying gay heaven, and you know I'm happy for you even though I'm never going to say it again." Rachel beams at her, and Santana barges past them, dumping her empty plate and mug in the sink. "But if you ever have sex in my bed, the cops will never find your bodies." She adds on as she walks towards the bathroom, laughing at Rachel's offended _Santana!_ and Quinn's appalled expression.

/

Walking towards the subway, Santana feels horrifically like a third wheel as she tries to block out the disgusting sweet nothings Quinn and Rachel are whispering to each other as they walk along beside her.

Thankfully, Rachel fucks off to walk to wherever she has to be for that Broadway play she auditioned for and obviously got the lead in, and Quinn follows Santana into the subway station, a dreamy look on her face.

"I take it back. You two are revolting." Santana says, and Quinn just rolls her eyes, pulling her phone out of her pocket to read the text Rachel has just sent her. Fucking hell they just saw each other like ten seconds ago.

As usual, Santana chooses to ignore the little voice in her head saying she wouldn't find it so ridiculous if it were she and Brittany. Shaking that thought off, she spies two miraculously empty seats on the train, and drags Quinn over to them, sitting down, and immediately turning to Quinn.

"So, Halloween costume, spill. And please tell me you and Berry aren't coordinating your sure to be terrifying outfits."

Quinn finishes whatever sappy thing she's texting Rachel, puts her phone away and turns to Santana. "I'm not sure yet. Rachel said something about her and Kurt going as Dorothy and the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz, but I'm not sure if she was being serious." Quinn trails off, looking slightly bemused, apparently only just now realizing how much it would kill your lady boner to see your girlfriend dressed like the bait girl on To Catch A Predator.

"I have no idea either." Santana says, mentally running through costume ideas, discarding ones that cover up too much skin. She has a plan, or rather a revenge plot, to get back at Brittany's little stunt yesterday.

Santana had been enjoying her Tuesday afternoon, quickly filling in Sam's holiday request form for Friday and Saturday so he could visit his cousin who'd just given birth, when Brittany came waltzing into her office, shut the door, straddled Santana on her chair, and informed her of how horny she was.

Of course, Brittany being as evil as she is, kissed Santana silly and worked Santana up until she was soaked, and she was contemplating just rubbing herself against her seat when Brittany disembarked her lap, kissed her on the cheek and said _see you later honey_, followed up with a wink.

She's convinced Brittany is trying to kill her, so she is going to give as good as she gets, and wear the most suggestive, skin tight, sexy outfit she can find. She knows Brittany likes superheroes and comics and all those nerdy kind of things, after overhearing her and Sam gossiping about which Batman film is the best, so once she gets to the studio and gets rid of Quinn, she plans on Googling superhero outfits.

Then deleting her Internet history.

/

Quinn and Santana arrive at the studio just before 9am, via Starbucks of course. Santana is about to follow Quinn into the elevator when she spies Sam walking through the door.

Telling Quinn she has something to ask Sam, and ignoring her confused look, she instead dashes after Sam into the animation room.

"Hey Trouty, got a minute?"

Sam turns around, looking slightly confused, before pointing to himself. "Me?"

"Yes you." Santana laughs, following him over to his desk and perching on the side of it while he slumps into his seat, switching his computer on.

He looks up at her expectantly, and Santana tries to figure out how to word this so he doesn't suspect anything. He lives with Brittany, and from what Santana gathers they're pretty close, but she's not sure if he knows, or even suspects anything. She knows Brittany won't have told him outright, but Sam isn't as dumb as he looks and might have picked up on something. Like the hickeys Santana is so fond of leaving all over Brittany's neck.

Santana folds her hands into her lap, drumming her fingers on her knees nervously. "I need your expertise with something. And if you tell anyone about this I'll chop your pay check in half." She begins, and Sam looks slightly horrified before she smirks to let him know she's joking. Possibly.

"I need you to give me a list of all the female superheroes you can think of." She mutters out in a rush, and he blinks up at her. "For the Halloween party. Uh, I lost a bet and I have to dress up as a superhero, so you know, I may as well go for some insanely hot chick." She lies, mentally patting herself on the back for quickly making that up.

Sam laughs, and reaches forward to grab a bit of paper and a pen. "You don't have to be embarrassed Santana, superheroes are totally cool."

"If you say so, I won't burst your bubble." Santana says, peering down at Sam's scrawl covering the paper. Jesus Christ she wasn't aware there were this many female superheroes.

Sam eventually finishes his list and hands it up to her. "There you go. Uh, I put a little star next to the ones that are like, super hot, I mean I'm sure you'll look good in whatever you go as, but uh, the starred ones are like, the hottest." He pauses, and Santana raises an eyebrow. "I mean that in like, a totally professional way, uh, one friend to another?" He says, trailing off nervously.

Santana stares at him for a few more seconds, letting him stew in his terror, before she laughs, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. "Sure Sam. Thank you, by the way."

Santana hops off the desk, and is about to walk towards the door when Sam calls her name. "Uh, on Saturday, is Mercedes gonna be there?" He asks, running his hands through his hair nervously.

"Yeah she is." Santana replies, laughing at Sam's fist pump and cheer. Walking towards the elevator, she fires a text off to Mercedes asking about what's going on with her and Sam. Or rather, she phrases it as _Sup Wheezy. I want the deets on you and Vagina Lips before you both vanish off on Saturday ;) xx_

Mercedes texts her back just as she reaches her office, informing her she's a perv and she wouldn't want to scar Santana with details of hetero sex.

Santana laughs at the text, shrugging her coat off and dumping her bag on the floor next to her chair. She switches her computer on and ignores the few emails she has, instead opening up Google, and typing the first of the superheroes into the image search bar.

/

Half an hour later, Santana's made her way through Sam's list, and has narrowed her choices down to two; Batwoman and Harley Quinn.

In the end, she goes for Batwoman, figuring Harley Quinn's hat is a bit ridiculous, and opens another tab, searching for costume stores in Manhattan. Ten minutes later she's found the perfect outfit that will have Brittany's jaw dropping, and clicks the order button, happily paying the extra fifteen dollars for the express delivery.

Santana cannot wait to see the look on Brittany's face. She gives a passing thought to what Brittany's outfit will be, probably a duck, or something equally as cute. Brittany doesn't really seem the type to play into the whole "dress up like a total slut" Halloween stereotype, but Santana totally wouldn't mind if she did.

She passes the rest of the morning actually doing work, and is interrupted just after noon by a knock on the door, followed by Brittany's head peering round the door.

"Hey, you free for lunch?"

Santana is about to reply with _only for you cupcake_, but bites it back when a second blond appears in her office.

"Hi Brittany." Quinn looks at the other blond suspiciously before turning to Santana. "Want to go get lunch?"

Santana pauses, looking between the two blonds. She's about to say yes to Quinn and figure out how to apologize to Brittany later, when Quinn asks Brittany if she'd like to join them. Brittany looks slightly shocked, before nodding, and asking if Sam can join them, since she originally had lunch plans with him.

Santana feels an odd surge of arousal at the dual lying to Quinn, but pushes it down. If she's going to be having lunch with her best friend and two of their employees, one of which she's kissed several times, she can't get distracted.

However, when Santana follows Quinn out of her office, Brittany behind her, and the blond "accidentally" brushes her hands against Santana's ass, Santana thinks not getting distracted thing may be harder than she originally thought.

/

Thankfully, she manages to survive lunch, and even manages to keep a straight face when the topic of Halloween comes up.

"Britt, you're coming over early to help set up yeah?" Quinn asks through a mouthful of sandwich, and Santana does her best to keep her choking on her drink silent. Brittany's coming over early? She figured Brittany would arrive with everyone else so Santana could steal her away quickly without Quinn noticing.

Brittany nods, taking a bite of her own sandwich. "Sure am! What are you going as?"

"Not sure yet, probably Superwoman." Quinn replies, and Santana rolls her eyes. Unless she's bought a new one and hasn't bothered telling Santana, the Superwoman costume was bought freshman year of college. It might be a little small on Quinn now. She says as much to Quinn and watches as she turns bright red, mumbling something about Rachel liking it.

Santana bursts out laughing, and Sam glances between them, looking confused. "Wait, Rachel? Are you guys like…?" He trails off, and Brittany turns to look at them, feigning confusion. Santana had already informed Brittany of Rachel and Quinn during one of their coffee dates. Well, Santana had ranted about walking in on them half naked the previous night, and Brittany had laughed and said she thought they were cute.

"Yeah, she's my girlfriend." Quinn says, trying to hide her still red face behind her sandwich. Santana is about to poke fun at the silly smile that spreads across Quinn's face at her statement, but then she sees the way Brittany's looking at her. It's the same affectionate look she saw on Brittany's face when she sang to her the previous week, and Santana can't help but softly smile back, ignoring Sam congratulating Quinn next to her.

They stay in their own little world until Sam says something about being the only straight person at the studio, and Quinn whips round to stare at Brittany. "Britt? I didn't know you were gay?"

As soon as the words are out of her mouth Quinn shoots a suspicious glance at Santana.

Brittany swallows a bite of sandwich. "Uh, I'm not gay. I'm bisexual."

Quinn just nods her head slowly, and Santana distracts herself by taking a sip of her coffee. Christ, she doesn't know if she should be offended or flattered that just because Brittany's bisexual Quinn thinks Santana's tried something.

There's a slightly awkward break in conversation, until Brittany asks Sam what he's going as, and he announces _Captain America_ with a proud grin.

"What about you, Britt? And Santana, what're you going as?" Sam asks, and Santana pauses, waiting for Brittany to answer first.

"I'm not sure." Well that's disappointing. "I have like a load of costumes lying around, but I haven't decided on one yet. What are you going as Santana?" The three blonds stare at Santana, and she pauses, wondering whether or not to say, or to keep it as a surprise for Brittany.

"I'm going as Batwoman." Santana eventually decides to say, since Quinn will probably be nosey and ask why she didn't say when a package arrives tomorrow morning from The Party Store with Santana's name on it.

"You are?" Quinn asks, and Santana nods, taking a bite of her sandwich then proceeding to talk with her mouth full, telling Quinn she only just decided that morning. Sam asks Quinn about her Superwoman outfit, and Santana finishes chewing, glancing over at Brittany, who's typing something on her phone. Sure enough, a few seconds later Santana's phone buzzes in her pocket, and Santana makes sure Quinn and Sam are still preoccupied before opening the text.

_Batwoman hmm? I bet you'll look hot :P xxx_

Santana breathes a sigh of relief; thankful it's not something too dirty. She doesn't reply, just sends a wink Brittany's way, who blushes in the most adorable way. Quinn and Sam stand up, Sam picking up their empty sandwich wrappers to take over to the trashcan, and Santana and Brittany join them, the three of them putting their coats back on and heading outside, starting the ten minute walk back to the studio.

/

The rest of the day passes quickly, and just before 6pm rolls around, Santana sends a quick text to Brittany, asking her to come up to her office.

A few minutes later, Brittany waltzes into the office, her bag slung over her shoulder, and shuts the door behind her, an amused sparkle in her eye.

"Is this a booty call, Miss. Lopez?" She says in a low voice, and okay, Santana is not prepared for that. She gulps, feeling the first stirrings of arousal low in her stomach as Brittany dumps her bag into the chair the other side of Santana's desk, before walking around and sliding sideways into Santana's lap.

Santana starts to say that it isn't, but stutters, and cuts herself off when Brittany lowers her head to start pressing gentle kisses up the side of Santana's neck, sucking on the earlobe when she reaches Santana's ear.

Santana moans, head tilting back when Brittany nudges at her jaw with her nose, starting to kiss back down her throat, biting gently at Santana's speeding up pulse point.

"Britt, uh, fuck-" Santana groans, getting cut off when Brittany raises her head to kiss Santana. Brittany's tongue slides along Santana's bottom lip, pushing it past her lips to stroke hotly against Santana's. Santana whimpers, sliding her arms around Brittany's waist and trying to lean up to get closer to her.

Brittany tastes even better than usual today. Usually Santana can taste the remnants of the morning's coffee, sometimes mint from her chewing gum, but apparently Brittany's decided to put some kind of flavored lip gloss on, some exotic kind of fruit like mangos or pomegranates that makes her taste sweeter than usual.

Santana kisses her harder, licking her way into Brittany's mouth, and the blond above her just moans, sliding her hands from Santana's shoulders up to her head, tangling her fingers into her hair and scratching them gently against her scalp.

God Brittany feels so fucking good, pressed tightly against her so Santana can feel each ragged breath the blond takes in.

Brittany eventually breaks their kiss, sucking gently on Santana's tongue first and _Jesus_ that's still so hot, and rests her forehead on Santana's. "Thought this wasn't a booty call." She giggles.

Santana snorts. "Well it wasn't, and then you came over here and attacked me. I didn't really have much of a choice."

Brittany giggles again, quickly kissing Santana before leaning back, keeping her arms wrapped around Santana's neck. "So what did you want?" She asks, one hand still wrapped around Santana's shoulder, the other playing with Santana's hair.

Santana gulps, the nerves back at full force in her stomach. Oh God, why is this so hard?

"Yeah, uh, I wanted to ask you something," Santana says, hoping her voice doesn't sound too shaky. It probably does. Brittany just smiles at her, waiting for her to continue. "Um, what are you doing Friday night?"

Brittany pauses in playing with Santana's hair, furrowing her eyebrows as she thinks. "Um, I think I was just gonna stay in, hang out with Sam. Why?" She asks, looking back down at Santana.

"Um, well…" Santana swallows, trying to murder the fucking swarm of butterflies flapping around in her stomach. A tiny smile starts to appear on Brittany's face, like she knows what Santana is awkwardly fumbling her way through doing, and Santana feels heat rush to her cheeks. Thank God blushes don't really show up on her skin.

"If you're not busy, and uh, only if you want to, do you want to, you know, hang out or something?" Santana mumbles, and presses her face into the crook of Brittany's neck in embarrassment when Brittany starts giggling.

She whines the blond's name, and Brittany tries to stop, but Santana can still hear the amusement in her voice when she speaks. "Santana, if that was your attempt at asking me on a date, that was terrible."

Santana groans, and Brittany starts laughing again. "You don't do this often, do you?" The blond questions, and Santana leans back, shaking her head sheepishly.

Brittany grins, and leans forward to kiss Santana gently. "Well I'll save you the embarrassment, and say yes."

"Yes?" Santana echoes, keeping her eyes closed and lips brushing against Brittany's.

"Yes, I will go on a date with you Santana." Brittany confirms, closing the distance to kiss Santana sweetly again.

/

6.30pm on Friday evening Quinn is at Rachel's; on some nauseating date night that probably involves singing. Thank God. Santana has the place to herself, and is currently sitting in a tank top and sweatpants, making herself some dinner. She's meeting Brittany at Times Square at 7.30pm, and this time she's actually planned her outfit out in advance. And by plan out, she means she basically tore her closet apart the previous night, sorting through all her clothes until she settled on the perfect outfit, but that all depends on which definition of plan out you go by.

She's received like a million texts from Brittany, trying to get her to spill about where they're going, but all Santana tells her is that she'll like it and it's somewhere she hasn't visited yet since moving to New York.

She practically inhales her dinner, and hops into the shower, quickly washing her hair with the coconut shampoo Brittany caught a whiff off and said she liked, before dripping water all over the hallway as she walks into her room.

Towelling her body dry, Santana plugs in her hairdryer and glances towards her bed when her phone beeps loudly from its position on her pillow. It's a text from Brittany, shockingly enough, and Santana can't help the goofy smile on her face as she reads it.

_Pleeeeeeease tell me where we're going :) pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry on top? Xxx_

Santana types back, saying she's still not telling Brittany, and she has to stop herself from adding on that the only place she wants whipped cream is on Brittany's abs for her to lick off. She doesn't doubt that Brittany will find it funny, but the less she thinks about licking Brittany's abs, the easier this date will be, at least in terms of controlling herself.

It takes her about fifteen minutes to do her hair, blow drying it, curling it, and spraying half a can of hairspray onto it, putting a bit of make up on afterwards. She spends five minutes looking for her favorite lip gloss before realizing she's left in at the studio, another five minutes swearing to herself about it, and a third five minutes hunting around her room for another tube.

Once Santana eventually locates some, she quickly tugs her outfit on, the dropping temperatures outside meaning she decides to opt for some black jeans – skin tight of course – and a low cut red top. She pulls her favorite boots on, lacing them up at the front, and then picks up her leather jacket, grabbing her phone, her keys and her bag, before leaving her apartment, hailing a cab, and heading for Times Square.

/

Brittany looks slightly confused when Santana informs her they have to get the subway to their date's destination, and then slightly put out when Santana tells her it'll take like an hour to get there, but Santana promises her she'll like it, and it doesn't seem to bother her too much, she just shrugs, says okay and entwines her fingers with Santana's, dragging her over to the steps down to the subway station.

They spend the fifty minute subway ride playing I Spy – Brittany's idea – and making up backgrounds and stories for the people coming on and off the train – Santana's idea – and when they finally get off the subway, Santana thanks God Brittany doesn't know this part of New York enough to realize where they are.

The way Brittany's entire beautiful face lights up when she spots the giant ferris wheel towering over the rest of Coney Island makes Santana melt, and the entire uncomfy subway ride worth it.

"Santana! Oh my God, are we going-" Brittany doesn't finish her sentence, just points excitedly to the signs pointing towards the amusement park, and Santana nods, a massive smile breaking out over her face at Brittany's cheer. The blond is literally the cutest thing Santana has ever seen.

They walk, or rather Brittany drags Santana, towards the amusement park's entrance, almost skipping in excitement. Santana pays for them to get in, and for ride wristbands, and asks Brittany what she wants to go on first.

The blond looks slightly overwhelmed by the choice of rides, so Santana laughs and takes her hand, dragging her towards the queue for the Haunted House. She figures if she's paid for all this she may as well go on the one ride she thinks she'll genuinely enjoy.

She might also just want to have Brittany clinging onto her in the dark if the blond gets scared, but that doesn't matter.

/

As it turns out, Santana enjoys most of the rides Brittany demands they go on.

Santana insists on the ferris wheel being left for last, mostly because she wants to be all romantic and sweet and kiss Brittany at the top of it, but it's difficult when Brittany keeps gazing up at it longingly, and Santana feels more of a bitch than usual when she tugs Brittany over to the Cyclone Rollercoaster

However, when Brittany decides to bust out The Pout, Santana's a fucking goner.

The triumphant giggle that comes from Brittany when Santana sighs out an _okay Britt_ like two seconds after Brittany pouts at her and asks if they can go on the ferris wheel makes her think that Brittany has probably figured out what that damn pout does to her.

Once they're on the ferris wheel and it's set off, lifting them off the ground slowly, Brittany scoots as close as she can to Santana, lifting her left arm to wrap around Santana's shoulders, her right sliding into Santana's lap to tangle their fingers together. Santana cuddles as close as she can to the blond, resting her head against Brittany's shoulder, and she lets her eyes fall closed as Brittany gently presses her lips to Santana's cheek.

Christ she could definitely get used to this.

"Thank you, Santana." Brittany whispers into her ear, and Santana twists round to kiss Brittany fully, sucking on her bottom lip until she moans, her mouth opening fully so Santana can push her tongue inside. Santana lets go of Brittany's hand, bringing them up to cup Brittany's cheeks and the blond whimpers against the assault of Santana's lips, sliding her arms around Santana's body, hugging her closer.

The carriage jolts to a halt, breaking them apart, and Brittany looks at Santana with such affection that Santana feels her heart start thumping madly. "Really, San, thank you so much. Nobody's ever…" She trails off, glancing off to the side, a slight blush covering her cheeks.

"Nobody's ever what, Britt?" Santana asks, stroking her fingers against the insanely soft skin of Brittany's face.

Brittany takes a deep breath, gently letting it out before returning her gaze to Santana's. "Just, nobody's ever made me feel like this before."

Santana's heart skips a beat, and she feels the annoying butterflies return with a vengeance. Nobody's ever made Brittany feel like what before? Santana's starts thumping double time when she wonders if Brittany could possibly be falling in love with her as well. She's about to ask _like what_ when Brittany laughs, and speaks again. "God, that's probably the cheesiest thing I've ever said."

Santana laughs, because fuck does she know that feeling. "I dunno Britt, you did say you wouldn't mind being my hero. That's pretty cheesy."

Brittany flushes, her cheeks getting redder as she mumbles about trying to be sweet. Santana giggles, kissing Brittany on the cheek as the carriage starts to move again. It pauses one more time before they reach the top, and when they do, Brittany lets out a breathless sigh, staring around her in awe. To their left, the Atlantic stretches out in a huge black mysterious looking mass, and the to their right Coney Island's boardwalk and the rest of Brooklyn is lit up like a Christmas tree, illuminating Brittany's already gorgeous face in the best way.

"Wow." Brittany says, sounding awestruck. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah, you are." Santana says, and Christ if that isn't a cliché out of every single fucking romcom ever, she doesn't know what is.

She forgets to care about what a sap she's turned into when Brittany ducks her head shyly, smiling at Santana from under her eyelashes. Brittany quickly digs into her pocket, whipping out her phone and nearly elbowing Santana in the face, and opens the camera app.

"What are you doing Britt?" Santana asks, when Brittany just yanks her closer and holds the phone up, the reverse camera showing up with their faces.

"We don't have any photos together. This needs to change." Brittany says like it should be obvious, and Santana just rolls her eyes, waiting while Brittany finds the perfect angle for the phone so the lights of Coney Island are in the background.

Brittany snaps a few photos, one of them smiling, one of Brittany kissing Santana on the cheek, and one of Santana kissing Brittany on the cheek. Something jolts in Santana's stomach when they show up on her phone, after asking Brittany to send them to her, as she realizes what a _couple_ thing it is to do, to take cute photos together like this.

Ignoring that still terrifying thought, Santana takes Brittany's hand as they climb out of the carriage, and Brittany announces she wants something to eat.

There's a little ice cream shop about a five minute walk down the boardwalk, and Santana is about to tell Brittany this when she spots one of those _knock all the bottles down with this tiny bean bag and win a stuffed toy you could buy at the dollar store_ stalls. This particular overpriced arcade, has stuffed toy ducks.

Santana quickly thinks of how to get rid of Brittany, asking her if she has to pee before they leave, which thankfully she does, so she points Brittany in the direction of the toilets, before dashing over to the arcade. The chubby boy behind the counter leers at Santana's chest as he asks what she'd like.

"How many bottles do you have to knock over to win one of the ducks?" She asks through gritted teeth, trying to tame the urge to slap him.

"All of 'em." The boy replies in a strong Brooklyn accent, only briefly lifting his eyes away from Santana's chest.

Fucking hell. Santana hands over five dollars, and he hands her back three beanbags, one of which has a dubious stain on it. Fantastic.

Santana flings the first one towards the stack of bottles, missing them completely and smacking into the back wall. The second one flies slightly closer, but still misses. The third one hits the topmost bottle, knocking it and the second row of bottles down, but leaving the three bottom ones still standing. Fucking hell.

"Better luck next time." The boy comments, bending over to pick the beanbags up, and Santana groans.

"Wait, let me try again." Santana says, digging around for another five dollar bill. The boy returns the beanbags to her, and she picks the first one up, hurling at the bottles. Again, it misses completely, and Santana swears under her breath. The second one smashes straight into the bottom row, knocking almost all over them over. Santana glares at the single bottle left standing, and prays she hits it.

She flings the third beanbag at the bottle, and thank fuck, it hits it, sending it flying off the table. She cheers, just managing to stop herself from fist pumping or something equally as lame, because she's 24 for fuck's sake, and grins like a lunatic when the boy hands her one of the stuffed ducks with a bored sounding _congratulations, I hope you enjoyed your time here at Coney Island_.

Santana spots Brittany coming back through the crowd, and dashes up to her, hiding the duck behind her back.

"Hey San, can we- what are you hiding?" Brittany asks suspiciously, trying to peek around Santana's body. Santana presents the little stuffed duck to Brittany with a flourish and a smile, and she thinks her heart may have stopped at the look on Brittany's face.

Brittany stares at the duck in shock for a second, glancing up at Santana in question. Santana just nods, smiling wider at the grin that tugs at Brittany's lips. Her entire face lights up, her wide smile hitting her eyes as she takes the duck out of Santana's hands, before launching herself at Santana, wrapping her up in a hug.

"You're amazing." Brittany breathes out into Santana's ear, and Santana nearly melts. God she loves her so much. Santana feels like it should scare her, the depth of her feelings for Brittany, but right then, with arms wrapped around each other and a little toy duck squished between them, she couldn't give a fuck.

/

Brittany falls asleep on the subway ride back to Manhattan, curled into Santana's side as best she can in the cramped seats, her head resting on Santana's shoulder.

Santana is staring at her, wondering how the fuck she got so lucky when she realizes something. Sam lives with Brittany. Sam is in Tennessee tonight. Therefore Brittany's apartment will be empty the whole night.

Her heart stutters, and heat starts pooling low in her stomach when she thinks of the many ways they could pass the time if Brittany were to invite her to stay over.

Along with the arousal though, are nerves. Any other time, Santana wouldn't be nervous about the prospect of having sex with someone at _all_. And yeah she can talk a big game about being amazing in bed and being able to get any girl she wants, but Brittany is like nobody else she's ever met. Santana cares about her more than she's ever cared about anyone else, and she wants it to be special. She just wants to be worthy of Brittany.

And of course there's the small matter that she loves Brittany, and the last person she loved and had sex with was Spencer, so Santana doesn't exactly have the best track record of combining sex and feelings.

She wants to stop comparing the two, Brittany is nothing like Spencer and Santana knows it, but she can't help it. She's had six years of running away the second feelings got involved, of assuming everyone is going to hurt her like Spencer did, of not letting anyone in, and old habits are pretty hard to break.

But she's willing to try, for Brittany.

God she's so whipped.

The train jerks to a halt a few stops before Times Square, and Brittany jerks awake, blinking sleepily up at Santana, sitting up straighter and running a hand through her hair. She's simultaneously really cute and really hot, and Santana is slightly torn between wanting to wrap the blond up in a hug and wanting to pounce on her the minute they get somewhere semi-secluded.

"Oh God, did I fall asleep on you? I'm sorry, I'm like the worst date company ever."

Santana giggles, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of Brittany's confused looking face. "It's fine Britt. You look cute when you sleep." Santana is aware of how creepy that possibly sounds, but Brittany doesn't seem to mind, grinning goofily back at Santana as the train lurches and starts moving again. "So, um, did you have a good time tonight?" Santana asks, dropping her gaze from Brittany's and fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket, nerves assaulting her stomach again.

Brittany's hand appears in Santana's vision, taking hold of the fingers nervously tugging at the hem of the jacket's sleeve. Santana sighs gently, the warmth of Brittany's hand warding off some of the nerves. She glances up into bright blue eyes, and watches as Brittany smiles softly at her.

"I had the best time with you Santana." Brittany whispers, despite the fact there's hardly anyone around them in the carriage. "Thank you, really. Best second date ever." She smiles, and giggles after echoing Santana's sentiments about their first date.

The train pulls into Times Square and they exit the train, walking up the steps into the busy New York streets. Santana checks her phone for the time, and seeing that it's only 10.30pm, she turns to Brittany, asking what she wants to do.

Brittany looks thoughtful for a moment, and then beams at Santana. "Do you want to come over? I can make you my world famous hot chocolate."

Santana laughs. "World famous?"

"Well, Sam and Tina famous." Brittany mumbles, blushing slightly, and Santana nods before she can think about it, following Brittany over towards a cab.

/

Santana gets rid of her jacket once she gets into Brittany's apartment, which thankfully isn't as Arctic as it was last time she was here. Brittany kicks her shoes off and she scampers over to the kitchen, and as Santana leans one hand on the door to keep her balance while she takes her boots off, she's hit with a very nice memory of last time she was in contact with Brittany's front door.

To be more precise, when she was pressed up against it with Brittany's lips sucking at her throat, and Brittany's hands trying to tug her blazer off.

Said expensive blazer is no longer wrinkled, so Santana supposes she can forgive Brittany for it.

Santana walks over to the kitchen, watching in amusement as Brittany yanks two mugs out of a cupboard, before producing a pan and setting it on the cooker, pouring some milk into the pan and switching it on.

Brittany spins around fixing Santana with a seductive look, and Santana gulps. Without her boots on, she realizes Brittany actually has quite a few inches on her, and she feels her heart rate start to pick up as the blond stalks towards her, backing her up until she's pressed against the countertop.

Brittany leans forward, her hands coming to rest on the counter either side of Santana's body, trapping her. Santana's thumping heartbeat drops to between her legs when Brittany's gaze falls to her lips, and before Brittany renders her incapable of speech, she speaks up. "Uh, what about the milk Britt?"

"It takes like twenty minutes to boil, cause Sam spilled something on the cooker and now it only half-works." Brittany replies, shuffling closer until her body is pressed against Santana's. "So we have like twenty minutes to kill…" She trails off, and Santana takes the unspoken offer and crashes her lips onto Brittany's.

The blond whimpers, responding instantly and kissing Santana back, their lips molding together perfectly. Santana lifts her arms up to wrap around Brittany's shoulder, rising up on her toes slightly to press her body against the blond harder, her hips jerking forward when Brittany sucks on her bottom lip.

Brittany's hands move from the counter to Santana's hips, squeezing gently and pulling her closer. Santana groans, seeming to always forget just how good Brittany feels against her.

The lack of air gets to Santana eventually, and she breaks the kiss, only to moan Brittany's name when the blond moves to kiss at her neck, licking and sucking her way down Santana's throat and along her collarbone. Brittany's hands are all over Santana, running down her back, tangling in her hair to tilt her head back, sliding just under the bottom of her top to run her fingers along Santana's stomach and hips, before they eventually settle on her ass, squeezing at it and rocking Santana's hips into her own.

_Fuck._ The throbbing between Santana's legs is beginning to get unbearable, and she can hardly think straight like this, Brittany's hands on her ass, Brittany's hips rocking against hers, Brittany's chest pressed against hers, Brittany's tongue sliding over her skin and Brittany's teeth biting into her neck.

_Brittany, Brittany, Brittany…_ Santana's never felt so fucking… _Consumed_ with another person, but holy shit she likes it.

Santana slides her hands from Brittany's shoulders to her cheeks, tugging at the blond's face until she raises her head, and Santana kisses her again, sliding her tongue into a hot mouth and stroking it against Brittany's until the blond is groaning lowly, the vibrations shooting straight through Santana to pulse between her legs.

Santana breaks the kiss again, gasping gently for air as she leans her forehead against Brittany's. She's still so close to Brittany, their noses brushing, but she doesn't open her eyes, just slowly gets her breathing back under control, tasting Brittany's sweet breath every time the blond exhales.

It's strangely intimate, and the scared part of Santana is glad when Brittany breaks their silence by giggling and saying, "How about that hot chocolate then?"

/

Turns out, Brittany makes the best fucking hot chocolate Santana has ever tasted. And that's including Starbucks, and the Lima Bean's back in Ohio. Santana had been banished to the couch, Brittany claiming if anyone else saw her secret recipe the magic would be lost, and it's such a Brittany thing to say that Santana couldn't help but do it.

She's sitting on the couch flipping through a random magazine, but getting distracted watching Brittany dance around her kitchen, and when the blond brings the two mugs over, Santana almost starts drooling. The hottest woman she's ever seen carrying the best looking hot chocolate she's ever seen, well you can't really blame her can you? She's only human.

Santana attempts to blow gently on the mug to cool it down, but it probably makes absolutely no difference thanks to the mountain of whipped cream bobbing on top of the actual liquid. She carefully picks up one of the marshmallows embedded in the cream without making a mess and pops it in her mouth, looking up just in time to see Brittany take a gulp of the hot chocolate, and when she brings the mug back down Santana nearly chokes on the marshmallow.

In true Brittany fashion, there's now a massive smear of whipped cream all over her nose. Santana snorts, and when Brittany quirks an eyebrow at her she giggles, setting her mug down on the table, and leans forward.

"You've got whipped cream all over your nose." Santana says in amusement, swiping her finger over the cream to get it off. Brittany smirks evilly, reaching over to place her mug down before grabbing at Santana's retreating arm. The raging arousal Santana had managed to stomp down flares back up in an intense pounding in her chest and between her legs when Brittany drags her tongue over Santana's fingers, licking the whipped cream off.

A tiny whimper escapes Santana's lips, and she's pretty sure her jaw is hanging open in a particularly unattractive way when Brittany decides to torture her even more, and sucks two of Santana's fingers into her mouth. Her tongue slides over and around the pads of Santana's fingers, around her knuckles, as she moves her head slowly to drag her lips up and down the length of Santana's fingers, sucking gently all the while.

Holy fucking hell.

Brittany's darkened blue eyes bore into hers, and Santana is sure she's soaked through her underwear by this point. Like Jesus Christ, having somebody suck your fingers should not be this hot, but it's just turning Santana on more and more.

Brittany releases her fingers with an obscene wet smack, before licking her lips and letting go of Santana's wrist, which just falls limply onto the sofa as Santana continues to stare open mouthed at the blond.

_So not fucking fair…_

Brittany picks her mug back up, innocently looking at Santana over the rim as she takes another sip, managing to keep her face free of whipped cream this time. "How's your hot chocolate, San?"

Santana blinks dumbly, and tries desperately to ignore the dull throb between her legs as she reaches out with her right hand – _the hand with the fingers that Brittany basically just sucked off_ – and picks up her mug, taking a gulp of it, and holy shit this is the greatest hot chocolate Santana's ever had. Like, it actually distracts her from her surging arousal for a few seconds, it's that good.

"Oh my God, this is so good Britt."

Brittany looks so proud of herself. It's adorable. "Thank you. Lord Tubbington gave me the recipe, apparently it caused a few wars in cat street gangs, so he gave it to me for safekeeping."

Santana blinks again, because what the hell do you even reply to that, and just takes another gulp of the most amazing hot chocolate in the world made by the most amazing person in the world.

Brittany continues chattering on about Lord Tubbington, and their conversation spreads to pets – which Santana doesn't contribute to too much. Goldilocks the goldfish lasted the grand total of one week in junior year. Never again. – Quinn and Rachel – _it's horrifying! I can't even walk into my own fucking apartment without seeing them practically going at it on the sofa!_ – and the Halloween party tomorrow.

"So what does your costume look like?" Brittany asks, setting her now empty mug down on the table and scooting slightly closer to Santana.

Santana fights back a smirk, and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "You know, just a regular boring Batwoman costume." She answers casually, placing her mug next to Brittany's on the table. "Black dress with a red bat on the front, and a red cape."

She chooses not to mention the small details of the dress being tiny, skin tight and low cut, and the red knee high heeled boots she has to go with it.

"You know what you're going as yet?" Santana asks, and Brittany averts her eyes, before saying _No_ far too quickly for Santana to believe her.

Santana doesn't bother pressing Brittany on it, just says _I'm sure you'll look gorgeous whatever you wear_, and the next thing she knows is she's on her back with Brittany on top of her.

"Britt-" She doesn't get very far questioning the blond about what she's doing before Brittany's lips are covering her own. Brittany kisses her relentlessly, until she's breathless but still whimpering and moaning into Brittany's mouth, and God having Brittany's full weight resting on her is hotter than she thought possible.

Ignoring the still scared part of her, she shuffles her hips around a bit, until her left leg is sliding between Brittany's, and she rocks her hips up, her thigh pressing against Brittany's center.

The strangled moan that comes from Brittany's lips when she breaks the kiss and buries her head into Santana's shoulder shoots straight to between Santana's legs, and holy fuck her pervy daydreams do not do justice to how hot Brittany's breathy little moans and whimpers sound. Especially when they're right into Santana's ear, followed by Brittany sucking on her earlobe.

Santana groans, and her hands fist in the back of Brittany's top, before travelling down her back to grab at her ass. Brittany moans again, a drawn out, husky gasp of Santana's name, and holy shit Santana is wet right now.

The throbbing arousal between her legs is causing her vision to start to go hazy, and she can barely think about anything other than the way Brittany feels on top of her, hips rolling against Santana's thigh, desperate pants into her ear.

Brittany rocks her hips against Santana's thigh more forcefully, at the same time starting to press open mouthed kisses all over Santana's throat.

Santana's brain nearly short circuits at one particularly harsh bite at her collarbone, and then Brittany is shifting slightly further down her chest.

Unlike the last time Brittany's face, and therefore mouth had been in close proximity to Santana's chest, there's no annoying high neckline of lace to get in the way, the deep v of Santana's top giving Brittany free access to kiss and lick her way across the top of Santana's boobs.

Santana's hands drag up Brittany's back to tangle in her hair, tilting her own head back as she presses Brittany's face closer to her chest. Fuck, they really need to stop.

No part of Santana wants to, but she knows they have to. Part of Santana is still scared, and despite how much she wants to fuck the blond, she knows if they have sex now, Santana will definitely panic and then run in the morning, effectively ruining any chance she has with Brittany.

Brittany doesn't seem to have to same qualms as Santana; sucking hard enough at the top of her right breast that Santana knows there'll be a massive hickey there tomorrow.

"Britt, wait, oh _God_, fuck-" Stopping Brittany is slightly more difficult that Santana realized, when the blond licks a stripe over to the other breast.

"Britt." Santana gasps, tugging on Brittany's hair until the blond groans, lifting her head up to meet her eyes. Santana nearly loses it when she sees the way Brittany's looking at her. Her lips are bright red and swollen, from kissing Santana and from sucking at her skin, her eyes are the darkest blue Santana's ever seen them, and her hair is a tousled mess. Plus the fact that her mouth is hovering right over Santana's breasts, which all makes for one of the hottest things Santana's ever seen.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, and _fuck_ her voice is hot.

Santana closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against the armrest. "I'm sorry Britt, I just-"

Brittany cuts her off, kissing her sweetly. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"Britt, I want to though. Believe me, I want you _so_ much, sometimes I feel like it's driving me crazy." Santana admits breathlessly, tracing her fingers over Brittany's cheekbone, revering in the affectionate way Brittany's looking down at her.

"So, why…" Brittany trails off, angling her face slightly to kiss the ends of Santana's fingers.

"I really like you Britt." Santana whispers, ignoring the nerves in her stomach and keeping eye contact with Brittany. "Like_ really_ like you." She adds on when Brittany looks like she's away to question it.

"I just, I'm awful with relationships, with feelings and all that crap, and I just want-" Santana pauses, trying to figure out how to word what she's feeling. "I want to do this right." She eventually settles on, and clearly she's done something right if the smile Brittany bestows on her is any indication.

"You're so sweet." Brittany murmurs, sounding almost in awe, leaning down to kiss Santana quickly. "You really are amazing." She adds on, and Santana feels warmth flood through her body like it does every time Brittany compliments her.

"Let's just take things slowly." Santana mumbles against Brittany's lips, brushing hers gently against the blond's addictive tasting ones.

"Okay." Brittany says. "That probably means you should go soon, huh?" The blond pouts down at her, and okay that's just not fucking fair.

"Yeah, I'll have to go soon." Santana confirms. "If it's any consolation, I don't want to leave at all."

"What do stars have to do with anything?" Brittany asks, looking confused.

Okay Santana's pretty stumped on that one. Sounds like consolation, has something to do with stars…

"I said consolation Britt, not constellation." Santana laughs, kissing Brittany when she mumbles a quiet _oh_ in an embarrassed tone.

"Wait," Brittany asks, leaning back so she can look at Santana properly. "Can we cuddle before you go, or is that not taking it slow?"

Santana smiles, reaching up to wrap her arms around the blond and tug her down, shifting until the blond is cuddled into her side, head on her shoulder and their legs tangled together.

"Yeah Britt, we can cuddle."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Sorry for the wait, as always, thank you for the reviews / PMs / favourites etc, glad you're all liking this story :D

I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I figure you'll like it all the same, and I know the ending is kinda cheesy, but shhh :P

Oh, and just a warning, might be best not to read this in public / in the company of elderly relatives ;)

Also, instead of clogging up A/Ns with fic recs, I've made a massive one on my Tumblr, so feel free to check it out if you're wanting to read some fluffy/smutty/angsty/whatever Brittana :) It's under my links page on my Tumblr, which there's a link to in my bio :)

This chapter is dedicated to Mar, ie derphemo on Twitter :P otp: gay soulmates 3

Hope you all enjoy, drop me a review if you're feeling kind :)

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"You know Berry, if the whole wailing your lungs out on Broadway every night thing doesn't work out, you should totally open a bakery." Santana says through a mouthful of cake, before licking orange icing off the end of her finger.

"Santana, please stop eating all of my cupcakes." Rachel glares at Santana, and that's hardly a threatening sight in the first place, but when Rachel's wearing a pink apron and huge, bright orange oven gloves that almost reach her elbows, it's downright hilarious. Santana desperately tries to hold in a laugh as Rachel huffs and whirls around, stomping across the kitchen to check on her third batch of cupcakes. In her apron.

"Not that I'm complaining, cause these are fucking awesome, but who the hell makes cupcakes for a party?" Santana asks, reaching for another of the little cakes, then shooting a dirty look at Quinn when the blond smacks her on the back of the hand with the spoon she's brandishing.

"They're Halloween themed cupcakes San," Quinn says, picking up a cupcake and smearing orange icing over the top of it. "Plus you always get hungry when you're drunk, and this is better than you ordering five extra large pizzas and then crying when they got delivered five minutes early, like last time."

Santana flushes, and glares at Quinn. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

"Did we? Oh sorry, must have slipped my mind." Quinn smirks at her.

Santana rolls her eyes, and thankfully the doorbell chooses that moment to ring, and she hops off the counter and walks down the hall to answer it. She takes one look at Puck standing on the other side of the door and bursts out laughing.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Santana manages to choke out after getting her laughter under control.

Puck just gives her an unimpressed look and barges past her into the apartment. How rude. Santana follows him into the kitchen, watching on amusedly as he tries to pick up a cupcake before snatching his hand back when Quinn tries to hit him with her spoon.

"These are for the party," Quinn snaps, picking up the tray of iced cupcakes and moving them further away from Santana and Puck. "And what the hell are you supposed to be?" She asks Puck, staring in bewilderment at him.

"I'm Mr Abulous!" He announces, proudly gesturing at his shirtless torso. Quinn, Rachel and Santana just stare at him, before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

"Is that really all you could come up with?" Quinn asks, trying not to laugh at Puck's disappointed expression.

"That's even lamer than the year you painted yourself green and called yourself the Puckasaurus." Santana snorts, sending Quinn and Rachel into a fit of laughter again.

Puck rolls his eyes, and walks over to the refrigerator, opening it and pulling a beer out. "Whatever. I haven't gotten any in like five days, and that's a long time for the Puckzilla, and these abs have gotten me many a lady, so laugh all you want, there's no way I'm going home alone tonight." He says with an arrogant smirk, opening the bottle and taking a long drink.

"You're disgusting." Quinn deadpans, and really, the amount of times Quinn has said that particular phrase to either Santana or Puck, you'd think she'd have found a more creative way to say it by now.

Puck just laughs, opening a second bottle and handing it to Santana. She joins him on the couch in the living room, leaving Quinn and Rachel to their little baking extravaganza, and tries to hold in another laugh at his awful costume. Literally all he's wearing is some tight denim cut off shorts. And some white shoes. Santana hasn't gotten changed into her costume at the moment, all she's wearing is sweatpants and a tank top, but it looks like she's put more effort into her appearance than he has.

/

Fifteen minutes later, Rachel's third batch of cupcakes are finished and iced, and one side of the counter is now covered in orange cupcakes. The other half is covered with a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and Santana is very glad they don't work on Sundays. Puck has to, and possibly Kurt, which Santana finds hilarious. Working with a Halloween hangover is not something she'd enjoy.

Kurt arrived a few minutes ago, and he and Rachel immediately barricaded themselves into Quinn's room, insisting they needed privacy for their costumes. Apparently they did go with Dorothy and The Scarecrow, and Santana is morbidly curious as to what they look like. Probably horrifying.

Santana looks up when Quinn appears out of the bathroom in her Superwoman costume, and Puck nearly blows one of her eardrums whistling loudly at her. Not that she blames him, Quinn might be her best friend and pretty much one of the last people Santana would ever want to sleep with, but fuck she looks hot. She's wearing the usual Superwoman outfit, red skirt and a blue top with the S logo on it, but considering it's a few years old, the skirt barely covers her ass and the top is insanely tight.

Santana figures Rachel will appreciate it.

And now she has the image of them in her head. Gross.

"Hot damn, Fabray, lookin' good." Puck says, smirking at Quinn. "You know if you and Rachel ever want to spice things up in the bedroom I'm more than happy-"

"If you want to keep your balls I suggest you don't finish that sentence, Noah." Quinn says airily, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of lemonade. Santana nearly chokes on her beer, and bursts out laughing when she catches sight of the offended look on Puck's face.

Ignoring Puck's huffing, Santana stands up from the couch and heads towards her room to get changed into her own costume. It's nearly 7pm, therefore nearly the time Brittany said she'd be arriving, therefore time for Santana to start teasing the fuck out of her.

/

Santana's doing her hair, trying to get it to curl perfectly when she hears the doorbell. She chooses to believe the immediate fluttering in her stomach is the beginnings of arousal at the fact they'll have to sneak around secretly tonight, and not ridiculous butterflies at the thought of getting to see Brittany.

Even if they are butterflies, it immediately burns into arousal when Santana hears Quinn open the door and exclaim "Wow. Holy crap Britt, you look hot."

If Quinn thinks Brittany looks hot and has no problem admitting it, Santana is probably doomed. She lets the last curl of hair fall back against her neck and glances at her half empty bottle of beer. It's only her second; therefore it's perfectly acceptable when she downs the entire thing before leaving her room.

It's only to try and cool her down before seeing Brittany, but it's also completely pointless since her brain pretty much short circuits when she walks into the hallway and catches sight of the blond.

Brittany's a cheerleader. Well, a zombie cheerleader if the rips in her clothes and the blood are any indication. Not that Santana pays any attention to that when her eyes are immediately glued to her abs. Then her legs. Then her hips. Jesus Christ there is far too much bare Brittany on show here for Santana to focus properly on anything other than the sudden throbbing between her legs.

Quinn's voice breaks her out of her perving and she manages to drag her eyes up from Brittany's abs to meet amused blue eyes staring back at her. Santana vaguely hears Quinn say something about helping Rachel with decorating the living room, but she's more focused on the way Brittany's eyes widen and darken when they drop to take in Santana's outfit.

Not that she's narcissistic at all – complete lie, she totally is – but Santana looks hot and she knows it. Brittany gulps audibly, and Santana feels her body start to warm up under the blond's heated gaze.

"Like what you see?" Santana purrs, smirking cockily at Brittany. Her outfit might have been a ridiculous price for the scrap of fabric that calls itself her dress, black and skin tight with the red bat logo emblazoned across her chest, the little red cape and the red knee high heeled boots that make her ass and legs look amazing, but it's so worth the price to watch Brittany's jaw practically smack into the hallway floor.

Santana steps closer to Brittany, letting her own gaze sweep over the blond. Brittany's wearing a red, white and black cheerleading outfit, however someone has taken a pair of scissors to them, and not in the lesbian way. From Brittany's boobs downwards, the top's been shredded so the smooth plane of Brittany's insane abs are on display. Santana subtly squeezes her thighs together at the sight, trying to ignore the flare of heat in her lower stomach. It fails miserably and she feels herself getting more and more turned on when her gaze drops lower to the tiny skirt sitting low on Brittany's hips.

If they weren't in the middle of Quinn and Santana's apartment, and Santana hadn't made that dumb statement of _let's just take things slowly_ the previous night, she wouldn't even have a second thought about shoving Brittany against the wall and dropping to her knees so she could let her lips and tongue get more acquainted with Brittany's abs and hips.

However, since Quinn might frown upon Santana jumping her golden employee in public, Santana forces herself to drag her gaze back up to Brittany's face. The blond is wearing a smirk that's half cute and half seductive, and Santana is convinced Brittany knows exactly what she's doing to her.

Santana clears her throat to try and get the _holy shit I want to fuck you so much right now_ tone out of it and smiles at Brittany. " Come on, I'll give you the grand tour of Casa de Lopez y Fabray."

/

Santana's standing in the hallway, stringing fake cobwebs between the two walls when Kurt appears next to her. His scarecrow costume is actually really good, although Santana probably only recognizes it thanks to the million times Rachel and Kurt have insisted on The Wizard of Oz at their bi-monthly movie nights.

He's wearing a blue long sleeved top, probably made of silk and probably "borrowed" from Vogue, and skin-tight brown jeans. Really just a normal, if slightly dressed down Kurt Hummel outfit if it weren't for the huge amount of straw stuffed down the front of the top. And the idiotic hat perched on his head.

"So, how are things with you and your lady?" Kurt asks brightly, picking up one end of the cobweb and helping Santana stick it to the wall.

"She's not my lady." Santana grumbles.

"But you want her to be." Kurt replies, is his annoying know-it-all tone of voice. Santana snorts instead of bothering with an answer, rolling her eyes in the patented Lopez way.

Not that she particularly wants to admit it out loud, but she does. Want Brittany to be _her lady,_ or whatever. _Girlfriend_.

She's still shit scared about the whole loving Brittany thing, about being so sweet on the gorgeous blond, and is still half expecting Brittany to turn around and say she's a serial killer or something, cause Santana still can't fully believe someone can be this perfect. Be this perfect and be into someone as not-perfect as Santana.

"You didn't answer my question Satan. How are things going with you and Brittany?" Kurt interrupts her thoughts again, apparently not getting the hint she doesn't want to talk about this. Especially when Quinn is in the living room helping Puck and Brittany with decorating.

"Fine." Santana bites out, picking up another cobweb to hang on the wall.

"That's it? Just fine?" Kurt asks annoyingly. Fuck's sake.

"Christ, all right Hummel, we've been on two dates, made out a lot, cuddled and-" She snaps her mouth shut, not meaning to blurt that last fact out. She looks behind her to where Kurt's stringing the cobwebs onto the opposite wall, and glares at him when he tries desperately to hold back a smirk.

"Ugh, shut up." She groans, turning back to her cobweb.

"I didn't say anything." Kurt says, in the high pitched voice that people get when they're trying valiantly not to burst out laughing. "But if I had, it would definitely not have been making fun of you for cuddling."

"Shut it, Hummel."

"The Santana Lopez, actually cuddling with a girl. I hear Hell's pretty cold this time of year."

"Kurt, I swear to God."

"Don't get all pissy Santana. You know I'm happy for you. You suit it. Being in love." Kurt says with a grin, leaving his cobweb to answer the door when someone knocks on it.

Santana freezes. Is it that obvious she loves Brittany? She knows she occasionally zones out gazing at the blond, but when Brittany's that fucking beautiful it's kind of hard _not_ to. She groans internally, she has got to get a hold on her emotions.

Santana knows it's kind of _bad,_ for lack of a better word, acting like she wants to keep Brittany a secret, and she doesn't like lying to Quinn – although Quinn hasn't directly asked about her and Brittany, so she's not technically lying, just… Not saying anything at all – but she can't see any other way for them to be together. She doesn't mind Kurt knowing, because she trusts him and knows he won't say anything to anyone.

But she can't have Quinn finding out that she's sort of dating their employee.

Santana looks up when Kurt and Sebastian – his legs and shirtless torso painted completely blue for his Smurf costume – brush past her and head into the kitchen, and meets Brittany's eyes staring at her from the living room. Quinn and Puck are talking right in front of Brittany, but the blond is paying zero attention to them, biting down softly on her bottom lip as her eyes very obviously trail down Santana's body.

Her dark blue eyes linger on Santana's chest – and really, thank fuck for Victoria's Secret for this wonderful bra – before rising to meet Santana's and the side of her lips curl up into a seductive smirk. Santana shivers, Brittany's bedroom eyes heating up her body.

Yeah she doesn't want Quinn finding out about her and Brittany for the ethical and professional reasons, but Christ it's also fucking hot sneaking around like this.

/

For all his bad habits, Puck certainly knows his party music. Once the first couple of guests started showing up at around 8pm, Puck quickly set up his speakers, and hooked them up to his iPod, putting on a playlist Santana thinks was titled _best party ever bitches. _They're probably going to get another noise violation thanks to the loud bass-heavy music now pumping through the apartment, but Santana doesn't really give a shit.

She's standing in the kitchen, sipping at her fifth drink – that Kurt made, and she has no idea what's in it apart from a _lot_ of alcohol – talking with Puck and a few girls she doesn't know, when Brittany appears next to her.

"San!" Brittany practically screams in her ear, and Jesus Christ Santana is going to buy a pair of earplugs for all following Halloweens if this is some kind of trend starting. Brittany flings an arm around Santana's shoulders, leaning heavily into her side for balance.

"Hey Britt." Santana replies, tapping her cup against Brittany's in cheers, before smiling widely at the tipsy grin on the blond's face. Evidently Kurt has gotten to her too. Santana asks if she's having fun, and Brittany nods, closing her eyes and swaying on the spot and Santana just watches her affectionately.

The song changes and Brittany's eyes snap open. "I love this song!" She exclaims, in the stereotypical happy drunk girl voice, and before Santana realizes what's going on, she's being pulled into the living room, which with all the furniture pushed to the side, is doubling as the dancefloor.

There's a small crowd dancing already, and Brittany tugs them right into the middle of it, spinning around and wrapping her arms around Santana's neck. This is probably a bad idea, since Santana finds it hard enough controlling herself around Brittany while she's sober, and now that she's five drinks in she's going to have a difficult time keeping her hands in distinctly _friendly_ places on the blond's body.

Santana's hands fall onto Brittany's hips – in a _friendly_ way of course – as they dance closely, and _God_ Brittany's skin is so fucking soft. Santana lets her hands trail up and down the sides of Brittany's body, revelling in the warm, smooth flesh under her fingertips, and in the way Brittany's eyes are slowly getting darker and darker, boring into Santana's own.

Santana smirks, letting one side of her mouth tug upwards, pleased with the way Brittany's eyes immediately drop to her lips, and she digs her nails gently into Brittany's hips, pulling them closer together. She sees more than hears the whimper that falls from Brittany's lips, smirking wider when Brittany glares at her.

Quinn is nowhere to be seen, and she's not sure she actually knows most of the people surrounding them, so therefore it's the perfect time to start teasing the shit out of Brittany.

Except Brittany beats her to it.

The blond spins around, pressing her back into Santana's front, and grinds her ass back against Santana, raising one arm behind her to tangle in Santana's hair. Brittany keeps rolling her body expertly, and fuck she'd forgotten what a fantastic dancer Brittany is.

There's something incredibly sensual about the way Brittany sways and rocks her hips, rolling her body backwards into Santana, deliberately grinding her ass into Santana's hips and arching her shoulders to rub against Santana's chest. Brittany's so fucking hot, and Santana thanks Mr Smirnoff that nobody around them has noticed the dirty show they're putting on.

She groans, letting her forehead drop onto Brittany's slightly sweaty shoulder and her hands come to rest on Brittany's hips, just above the waistband of her tiny skirt.

Santana's always had a thing for hips, she doesn't know why, or what it is about them really, she's just always found something really _really_ sexy about a girl's hipbones. And Brittany has really nice ones. Santana traces her fingers along them, squeezing lightly, and then harder when she hears Brittany groan, then quickly glances around to make sure no one's paying attention to them before sliding her fingers along Brittany's rock hard abs.

"Do you remember our second kiss?" Santana husks over the music, and Brittany nods. "The way you picked me up like that was so fucking hot." She carries on, and Brittany's head falls back against her shoulder, her eyes shut in pleasure. Thanks to her heeled boots, and Brittany's flat shoes, they're pretty much the same height, so it's easy for Santana to shuffle closer under the pretence of dancing and talk directly into Brittany's ear.

"Your abs are so fucking hot." Santana isn't entirely sure where she's going with this, but she's picked up on the fact Brittany seems to like it, Santana's voice lowering to that _fuck me now and fuck me hard_ tone and breathing dirty words into her ear.

Brittany whimpers, her hips rocking backwards hard into Santana's, and the blond turns her head, boring her eyes deep into Santana's. She can feel Brittany's panted breaths hitting against her lips, and they are so fucking close. Like, literally a few inches away from each other kind of close. It would be so easy for her to lean forward and claim the lips she's been dying to kiss since she left Brittany's apartment the previous night.

A goodbye kiss that turned into a full on make out against the front door, but anyway.

Thank fuck for Rachel Berry and her incessant need to have everyone's attention.

The loud sound of Rachel's voice slurring through the karaoke machine's microphone breaks Santana and Brittany out of their trance, and Santana glances over to the corner where the hobbit is frantically pressing at buttons on the machine, Kurt stood beside her with a pink sparkly microphone in his hand.

Well, Santana is impressed, Rachel lasted a whole hour longer before busting out the karaoke than last time.

/

Watching Brittany dance around to I'm A Slave For You by Britney Spears probably would have had celibate, extremely straight nuns loosening their collars, so you can imagine what it's done to Santana. Mercedes and Unique are doing a surprisingly good, for how drunk they are, job at not butchering the song, but they could sound like cats having their balls chopped off and Santana wouldn't notice.

She's standing in the kitchen again, not listening to a word Puck's saying, her eyes glued to Brittany where she's dancing with Sam. That fucking cheerleading outfit is covering practically nothing, and Santana takes another big gulp of her drink, trying to wet her very dry mouth and trying to blink out of her lusty haze.

Puck seems to pick up on the fact she isn't paying the slightest bit of attention, and stomps off towards a group of scantily glad girls. Perv.

Brittany catches her eye, and she slows her dancing down, smirking at Santana. Waiting until Sam is suitably distracted by Mercedes, Brittany cocks her head to the side and waves an arm at the hallway, before strutting off towards it. Santana finishes her drink and follows Brittany, intending to drag the blond into the bathroom and get her tongue in her mouth as soon as possible.

Brittany opens the bathroom door, Santana right behind her, and Christ Santana wishes she were drunker.

"Fuck! Mmf, Rach stop-" Of all the things to kill her buzz, seeing a topless Rachel Berry with her hands underneath Quinn's dress is somewhere at the very bottom of the list.

"Oh my God." Santana groans, shutting her eyes and walking backwards out of the bathroom, Brittany following behind her, giggling madly. "That is revolting. No amount of alcohol or brain bleach is going to rid that from my mind. Jesus Christ."

Brittany just laughs at Santana's grumbling, turning her head when Mercedes and Sam appear in the hallway, Mercedes dragging her coat on.

"Are you leaving already?" Brittany asks, and Sam flushes before nodding.

Brittany looks so confused as to why they'd leave, and it's so fucking adorable that Santana finds it hard to stop herself from grinning like a lovestruck moron at the blond. Turning her attention to Mercedes, she arches an eyebrow. "I'm almost offended Wheezy, skipping out on our fucking awesome party to go and bone Trouty. He must be good."

Sam and Brittany's eyes both bug out, and okay that was maybe slightly inappropriate, but the look on Mercedes face is worth it. Brittany starts giggling and Mercedes rolls her eyes, barging past Santana towards the front door with a grumpy _bye Satan_, and Sam mumbles goodbye to both of them, before they leave, the door swinging shut behind them.

Brittany looks slightly bemused when Santana looks at her, and she's about to question why when the blond speaks. "As hot as your friend Mercedes is, I don't really want to have to listen to them all night," She raises her eyes to Santana and pouts, and Santana knows if Brittany asked her to jump off a cliff she'd probably do it thanks to that fucking pout. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

It's probably a very bad idea, considering Santana can hardly keep her hands off the blond, and she wants to go slow – well sometimes she doesn't want to, but she knows it's the right thing – and she can already feel stickiness between her legs from dancing with Brittany earlier, but then she remembers how amazing it felt to cuddle the blond last time, and to wake up to her in the morning.

Well, to be woken up by Sam and then having to sneak out and walk of shame it home in the morning, but whatever.

So Santana nods, smiling shyly at the blond. "Of course you can Britt."

Brittany beams at her, before grabbing her arm and dragging her through to the kitchen, announcing loudly she wants shots.

/

It's around 2am when Quinn drunkenly yells for everyone to leave, and after she nearly falls off the sofa gesturing at the door, Puck takes over, kicking everyone out.

The last people leave, a sheep and what Santana thinks looks like a slutty loofah, and then Puck waves goodbye to her, leaving with the girl dressed as Catwoman he's picked up. Since she stopped drinking around an hour ago, Santana's sobered up slightly and she says goodbye to Puck before shutting and locking the front door.

Walking back into the kitchen, she fills two glasses with water, carrying two of them over to where Sebastian and Kurt are passed out on a chair. She swears to God, if Meerkat gets blue paint all over their vintage furniture…

Brittany's sprawled out inelegantly on the sofa, and Santana gulps as she feels the blond's eyes on her ass when she bends down to shake Quinn's shoulder.

The blond sleepily blinks up at her, and Santana points at Rachel, slumped into the chair opposite Kurt and Sebastian, using Santana's red cape as a blanket. "I believe that belongs to you." She says dryly, and watches in amusement as Quinn heaves herself up with a groan, before picking Rachel up and stumbling towards her bedroom, a slurred _night bitch, night Britt_ tossed over her shoulder.

How polite.

Santana turns to her favorite blond and holds her hand out.

She's sober – mostly – and Brittany's sober – mostly – and she isn't tired, and she gathers Brittany isn't either from the mischievous smirk the blond shoots at her, so she grabs Brittany's hand and pulls her off the sofa, dragging her towards her bedroom.

Where they'll be alone.

With a bed.

Oh God.

/

They tumble into Santana's bedroom, giggling loudly when Brittany manages to trip over her own feet, grasping onto Santana's shoulders. Slamming the door closed, Santana makes sure it's definitely locked, and quickly tugs her boots off, before turning around to face Brittany.

The blond is a lot closer than Santana realized, and she gulps audibly as Brittany shuffles even closer, until Santana's back is pressed against the door.

"I've been waiting all night to get you alone." Brittany whispers, her eyes falling to Santana's lips and her right hand coming up to trace along Santana's collarbone. Santana shudders under the blond's touch, her eyes falling closed when Brittany leans forward, following the path of her fingers with soft, feather light kisses along the top of Santana's chest and up towards her ear.

Brittany takes Santana's earlobe between her lips, sucking gently and then grazing her teeth over it, and Santana whimpers quietly, feeling the burn of arousal surge through her body, settling into a steady throb in between her legs.

"Do you have any idea how hot you look in that outfit?" Brittany asks lowly, breath blowing across Santana's ear, and Santana moans again, letting her head fall back against her bedroom door with a thud. Brittany steps closer, her hands falling onto Santana's hips and squeezing lightly, pulling their bodies flush together.

Santana sucks in her lips, humming out a low moan, the feeling of the blond's chest, stomach and hips pressing against her overheating body sending her brain into overdrive. Brittany presses her lips just below Santana's ear, brushing them against her sensitive skin gently, before dragging her lips down Santana's throat, turning her soft kisses into hot, wet, open mouthed ones, sucking harshly at a hammering pulse point.

The hands resting on Santana's hips slide round to grab at her ass, pulling her hips forward to rock against the blond's. A drawn out whine of Brittany's name escapes Santana's lips when Brittany slides her thigh between Santana's legs on the next thrust, grinding hard against her.

Brittany's hands are still squeezing at her ass, helping her roll her hips down onto the blond's leg, and with the way her dress has ridden up, Santana knows that Brittany can probably feel how wet she is through her soaked underwear with each press of her center against Brittany's bare thigh.

She whimpers again when Brittany bites just below her jaw, sliding her tongue over the bitten spot straight after, and her hands move from the blond's shoulders to her back, digging her nails in and dragging them up with each assault against her throat.

"You're so hot." Brittany mumbles against the probably bruised skin of her throat, and Santana's hips jerk harder at the husky tone of the blond's voice. Brittany sounds so fucking turned on, and Santana ducks her head, trying to make eye contact with her, and when she does, she only just manages to hold the moan in at Brittany's dark eyes.

Brittany licks her lips, her eyes dropping to Santana's mouth before they're kissing again, Brittany's tongue sliding along Santana's bottom lip before pushing into her mouth, stroking hotly against her tongue until Santana's head is spinning and she can hardly think straight.

Her hands grasp at the material of Brittany's top, clenching and tugging at it with the sole intention of getting it off of Brittany so she has full access to the blond's gorgeous body. They're supposed to be going slow, as per Santana's request, but God she feels like she's going to explode if she doesn't get skin on skin contact with Brittany soon.

"Off, now." She pants into Brittany's mouth, pausing the kiss so Brittany can lean back and raise her arms so Santana can pull the top up, and then Brittany's shirtless.

Santana blinks, her arousal on the backburner for a second while she appreciates how beautiful Brittany's body is. Reaching out, she traces her fingers along the angular curves of Brittany's hips, the contours of her abs, then Brittany is whimpering out a desperate please touch me, and she raises her hands to cup Brittany's breasts, squeezing them until Brittany is groaning, lunging back in to kiss Santana.

It's kind of difficult to concentrate on the magnificent tits filling her hands when Brittany's hands are tangling in her hair to tilt her head to the perfect angle so the blond can kiss her hard and deep, but Santana's pretty sure she's doing okay if the way Brittany breaks the kiss to moan quietly is any indication.

"You're so, oh _God_, fucking good at that." Brittany whimpers, her eyes shutting and her forehead resting against Santana's, and Santana smirks, her ego swelling and her arousal increasing at the desperate tone to Brittany's voice.

"You like that, Britt?" She whispers against the blond's lips, squeezing at her boobs roughly, before circling her fingers until she feels nipples pebbling under Brittany's bra, and pinches them gently. Brittany moans, louder this time, and Santana grins, sliding her hands off The Greatest Tits In The World and pushing off the door, intending to walk Brittany back to her bed, but apparently the blond has other ideas.

Brittany grabs her hips, spinning her around until she's standing behind Santana. They're standing midway between the door and Santana's bed, facing the tall mirror next to the cluttered desk, and Santana gulps as she watches Brittany slide up behind her, feeling the heat emanating off the other woman's body.

Brittany's eyes flick up to meet hers in the mirror, and Santana sucks in her lips, fighting back a whimper at the heated look in dark blue eyes. Brittany's fingers land on her hips, and slowly trace up her sides, so lightly Santana can barely feel it until they land on her shoulders, the fingers of her right hand sweeping Santana's hair off her neck.

It's a position incredibly familiar, and for a second she's back in Breadstix's bathroom with Brittany pressed up behind her, whispering about how she wanted Santana to fuck her. The memory sends another flash of arousal through her, adding to the pulsing heat between her legs, and she whimpers quietly, watching intently as Brittany drops her head to brush kisses along the back of her shoulder.

Santana feels fingers skating over the zipper at the back of her dress, and then Brittany's sucking on her earlobe, before lowly whispering. "Can I take this off?" into her ear, and Santana nods. Brittany drags the zipper down achingly slowly, her eyes never leaving Santana's in the mirror. She can feel Brittany's breaths hitting her ear with each inhale and exhale, and when the zipper comes to an end and Brittany pushes the dress off her shoulders, sliding it down to her waist, Santana leans back, her eyes falling closed and sighing in pleasure at the feel of Brittany's almost naked torso against hers.

Brittany resumes dusting soft kisses over her neck and shoulder, hands pushing at the dress until it pools at Santana's feet, and then Brittany's hands are on her hips, sliding over the bare flesh and squeezing lightly.

"Do you trust me?" Brittany murmurs into her ear, and Santana opens her eyes to look at the blond in the mirror again. Brittany's staring at her so affectionately, so lovingly, even through the haze of lust darkening her bright blue eyes, and Santana breathes out a quiet _of course I do_ without thinking about it.

Brittany smiles in response, tightening her grip on Santana's hips and starting to walk backwards towards the bed. Sitting down on it, she lets go of Santana long enough to scoot up until she's resting against the headboard and Santana's mountain of colorful pillows, before spreading her legs – holy fuck – and beckoning for Santana to sit between them.

Santana gulps, and clambers onto the bed, crawling on all fours towards Brittany, her eyes hungrily drinking in the blond's gorgeous body. Just before she turns around to settle back against Brittany, she catches sight of the blond's evil smirk, and swallows, her throat suddenly dry.

Brittany's hands appear on her hips again, and the blond pulls her tightly against her, and holy fucking shit she can feel how wet Brittany is. Where her ass pressed against the blond's center, she can fucking feel how hot and wet she's made Brittany, a thought that feeds the greedy smug part of her brain.

However, she's pretty sure her brain actually ceases to function when Brittany opens her mouth again.

"I want you to touch yourself." Brittany whispers into her ear, and holy fuck, nothing could have prepared Santana for _that._

Brittany giggles into her ear at the whimper Santana lets out, deliciously evil. Her hands pause their stroking of Santana's hips and move down to her legs. Santana groans, watching Brittany's fingers like a hawk. Deliberately pausing at the hem of Santana's purple lacy underwear to flick them against overheated skin teasingly, Brittany's palms slide along the top of Santana's thighs, before curving in and gripping at her inner thighs.

"Do it Santana, I want to watch you." Brittany murmurs hoarsely, pushing gently until Santana's legs are spread wider. Santana's thumping heart rate increases at Brittany's words, matching the pounding between her legs, and she's half tempted to think fuck it to her _slow_ rules, and just beg Brittany to fuck her. The blond's fingers are _so close_ to her soaked, throbbing center, where they're just aimlessly stroking circles on Santana's inner thighs, Brittany would hardly have to move to be able to push her fingers into Santana until she's screaming the blond's name.

"I thought we agreed on taking things slowly." Santana gasps, her eyes falling closed and leaning her head back against Brittany's shoulder. She figures if she can't see Brittany's fingers, it might make it slightly easier to control her raging arousal.

She's wrong.

With her eyes closed, she feels the presence of Brittany's fingers, hell of just _Brittany_, so much more. She's slightly unamused that Brittany can see so much of her half naked body, and while she can feel Brittany's also half naked self pressed up behind her, she can't see it. And with a body like Brittany's, any second she's not looking at it is a second wasted.

"This is slow," Brittany murmurs, her fingers moving upwards to trail across Santana's bare stomach, before slowly making their way up to her chest. "Just think of this as like, an assisted orgasm." Brittany's hands reach Santana's breasts, cupping them gently and squeezing lightly.

Holy _shit_. Santana moans, swallowing to try and wet her incredibly dry throat as Brittany goes to town on her chest, squeezing and massaging at Santana's breasts until Santana can hardly think. When Brittany leans back slightly, bringing one of her hands around to trace across Santana's bra strap and whispers _can I take this off_ in the hottest _fuck me_ voice, like, _ever_, Santana just nods frantically, her lust overriding the rational part of her brain.

Brittany's fingers play with the strap until it snaps undone, and Santana lifts her hands from where they've been grasping tightly at the sheets on her bed, letting Brittany slowly slide the straps down her arms until Santana gets impatient and tugs the bra off completely, throwing it across her room.

Brittany giggles again, and really, giggling should not be that hot, but basically anything Brittany does turns Santana on, so. Santana lets her hands fall onto her thighs, resting them there and smirking at the hitch in Brittany's breathing behind her.

The smirk falls off Santana's face, and she pretty much forgets how to breathe when Brittany's hands grip at her hips, tugging her backward until she's leaning back against the blond, and her hands slide up to cover bare breasts. Her boobs have always been a big _this really fucking turns me on_ spot, and Brittany probably figures that out within a few seconds of squeezing at them, due to Santana moaning and whimpering out a few choice swear words.

Santana's hands grip at her own thighs and she bites down on her bottom lip, trying to control the burning between her legs when Brittany presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to her neck, right over her pulse point, at the same time she focuses on Santana's rock hard nipples, pinching the left one and rolling the right one between her thumb and forefinger.

"Oh my God, fuck, _Brittany_," Santana moans, twisting her head to the side to press her lips against Brittany's, desperately needing to kiss the blond. It's a slightly awkward angle, but she couldn't give a crap when Brittany's tongue is pushing past her open lips and brushing against her own, and Brittany's fingers are still toying with her nipples, rubbing and pinching at them, rolling them between her fingers, each one sending another white hot jolt of arousal through Santana.

"You're so fucking good at that." She moans into Brittany's mouth, breaking the kiss when she starts running out of oxygen.

"Thank you," Brittany replies politely, and one particularly harsh tug on Santana's left nipple has her moaning, and rolling her head back to face forward, and she looks down at Brittany's pale fingers squeezing at her tanned flesh. Seeing it actually happening is so fucking hot, and she rocks her hips uncontrollably, whimpering at the slight friction she gets.

She rolls her hips again when Brittany breathes _you're so fucking hot Santana_ into her ear, and starts to inch her hands up her thighs. She can feel the heat emanating off her clothed center, and Jesus Christ she can't remember the last time she was _this _turned on.

"Come on baby, I want you to make yourself come," Brittany whispers demandingly, and Santana groans, feeling herself get even wetter at Brittany's filthy words. "You can't expect me to believe that you haven't done it before. Gotten yourself off while you thought about me."

Santana whimpers, dirty talk and playing with her boobs are two of her biggest turn ons, and with Brittany doing both, she is pretty much helpless.

"I've done it, you know. Fucked myself while I thought about you." Brittany continues, her tongue coming out to trace along Santana's earlobe before sucking it into her mouth and tugging lightly. Santana moans, a desperate gasp of the first syllable of Brittany's name, as the image pops into her mind. Of Brittany completely naked on her bed, legs spread lewdly wide as she pumps her fingers in and out of herself while thinking about Santana.

"Keep, _fuck_, keep talking," Santana chokes out, letting her fingers trace along the edge of her underwear.

Brittany squeezes at her boobs roughly, and pinches at her nipples again before continuing. "I'm always so wet when I think about you," Holy fuck. "It always feels so good, fucking myself while I think about fucking you."

Santana whimpers helplessly, and moves her left hand to press against the front of her underwear, and holy shit she's wet. Like, she can't remember ever feeling herself be this wet through her underwear before.

Brittany groans at the sight, dropping her head to press kisses down the side of Santana's neck, before sucking harshly at her thumping pulse point. Santana's hips jerk, and she presses her fingers down harder, rubbing slowly across her clit. The pleasure blooms and spreads through her body and she moans, spreading her legs wider. Brittany's hands move off her boobs, sliding downwards to grip at her hips, and she almost protests, but then Brittany's licking a hot stripe back up her neck towards her ear, and whispering hotly into it. "Fuck yourself Santana, do it. Tell me how it feels."

Santana groans, eyes closing again as she drags her fingers over her soaked underwear one last time, before moving them up and sliding them back down into her panties.

"Fuck," Santana gasps out, pressing her fingers against hot, wet flesh. Catching her clit between her middle and pointer fingers, she slides her fingers through her soaked center, hips jerking with each stroke against her sensitive skin.

"Oh my God," Santana groans, staccato breaths punctuated by each whimpered word.

"Santana," Brittany breathes her name into her ear, her eyes glued to the sight of Santana's fingers moving inside her panties. "You're so fucking gorgeous." She appreciates sweetly, before pressing a kiss against Santana's throat, just underneath her ear.

"How does it feel?" Brittany then questions lowly, running her tongue along Santana's ear.

"Hot," Santana groans. "Wet. God, I'm so fucking wet."

"For me?" Brittany questions, her thumbs stroking patterns into Santana's hips.

"Yes, oh God yes, for you. I'm so fucking wet for you baby." Santana babbles, not even entirely sure of what she's saying anymore.

Santana moves up to her clit, rolling the pads of her fingers over it, tracing hard, tight circles into the slick flesh, rocking her hips up to meet them. Her whole body is starting to quake from the pleasure spiking through it, and the tightening in her lower stomach makes her think her orgasm is going to hit her hard when it comes. She's vaguely aware of Brittany's hips starting to rock against her ass, then confirmed by Brittany whining quietly into her ear, and Jesus fucking Christ, this is one of the hottest experiences of her entire life.

"You feel so fucking good," Santana moans out, her imagination taking over and pretending it's Brittany's fingers sliding up and down her drenched center and brushing against her clit.

Brittany's answering moan makes Santana think that the blond is probably thinking the same thing, and she gasps Brittany's name, sliding her fingers down and gently pushing the tips of her middle and forefinger against her entrance, barely breaching wet heat. She moans, louder, and she gives a passing thought to hoping everyone else in the apartment has passed out by now, before Brittany growls _inside, now_ into her ear and she tips her head back in pleasure, sliding her fingers deep inside herself.

With how insanely turned on she is, and with Brittany grinding her own center against her ass, Santana is not going to last long, so she angles her fingers until the tips brush against _that _spot deep inside of her, her back arching and Brittany's name falling from her lips in a drawn-out moan.

Slipping her fingers out slightly, she pushes back in hard, rubbing against that same spot immediately, and she repeats the motions, driving her fingers in and out of herself, her hips rocking up off the bed to meet them. She arches her palm so that on the next deep thrust, it rubs against her swollen clit, adding to the red-hot pleasure already coursing through her body.

Brittany's whimpering into her ear, Santana's name and a few swear words mixed up with the unintelligible moans, and Santana opens her eyes just in time to see Brittany's right hand slide off her hip, before feeling it travel around her body where, judging by the high pitched whine into her ear, Brittany starts touching herself.

"God, I'm so fucking close Britt," Santana murmurs heatedly, twisting her head to try and get at Brittany's lips. They're both panting too heavily to really kiss properly, nothing more than brushes against each other's lips, and when Brittany's left hand slides across Santana's stomach to tangle her fingers with the hand Santana isn't fucking herself with, it becomes simultaneously the hottest and most intimate experience of Santana's life.

There probably isn't really much romantic about mutual masturbation when your apartment is far from empty, but with the way Brittany's eyes are burning into her own, and the way their hands are gripped tightly together, resting on her stomach, it seems pretty fucking romantic to Santana.

"Me too," Brittany groans against her lips. "God I want you so bad Santana. I wish your hand was mine, and mine was yours." Even Brittany's dirty talk is cute, and a smile breaks out over Santana's face as she quickly kisses Brittany, sliding her tongue against the blond's until she needs to breathe again.

"God I want to fuck you so much." She breathes out, and Brittany squeaks, her body starting to stiffen behind Santana. Santana's eyes fall shut as the pleasure begins to get unbearable, the coil in her stomach tightening and tightening until she comes hard with Brittany's name on her lips, plunging her fingers deep into herself one last time, her inner walls clenching tightly around them. Brittany follows her over the edge a second later, moaning Santana's name onto her lips before Santana feels the blond's body start to relax behind her.

Santana keeps thrusting her fingers gently inside herself, her whole body shuddering at the aftershocks of one of the best orgasms she's ever had still shooting through her.

"Wow," Brittany whispers, giggling quietly.

"Yeah, wow." Santana repeats, whimpering as she withdraws her fingers from her spent body, a final contraction shocking through her, and she melts back against Brittany's warm body.

/

It takes them about five minutes to recover, until Santana's breathing has returned back to normal and she feels like she'd be able to look at Brittany without immediately wanting to jump her. Well, not anymore than usual at least.

She sits up and shifts, rolling over to land on her stomach beside Brittany. Turning her head, she meets Brittany's eyes and can't help but smile softly, reaching out a hand to trace gently over Brittany's cheekbone.

"That, Miss Pierce, was not slow." Santana says with amusement, smiling wider when Brittany laughs, rolling onto her side and shifting closer to Santana.

"Sorry?" She says, and Santana is certain Brittany is the farthest thing from sorry.

"No you're not." She says as much, and Brittany just giggles, closing her eyes and nuzzling into the palm now cupping her cheek.

As much as Santana would love to just stay like this, gazing at Brittany, her room is beginning to get cold, and they're lying on top of the bed covers, just in their underwear. Shuffling forward to kiss Brittany's forehead, Santana sits up and pulls the covers back, clambering inelegantly underneath them and motioning for Brittany to do the same.

Once she's resting underneath the covers, Brittany slides an arm around Santana, pulling her closer until they're cuddled up together. Santana wraps her arm around Brittany's waist, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder, and sighs contentedly when Brittany's lips press sleepily against her forehead, mumbling out a quiet _goodnight, San_.

Santana yawns, her long day and ridiculously good orgasm catching up to her suddenly, and she snuggles closer to Brittany's warm body before speaking. "Night cupcake."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Sup y'all, SO sorry about the wait, it's Easter break here at the moment, so I've been super busy catching up with my friends since they're all off uni and stuff.

Thank you very much for all your reviews, favourites, follows etc, I appreciate them :)

And I know I said I'd stop clogging up A/Ns with fic recs, but evidently I lied, and you should all be reading The Journal by silverdoe14, cause it's awesome.

Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Santana wakes up the next morning to pretty much the greatest fucking thing in the world; a half naked Brittany cuddling her from behind and dusting soft kisses across the back of her neck and the tops of her shoulders.

Unable to stop the grin from slowly spreading across her face – not that she bothers trying, really – Santana hums out a contented sigh and snuggles further back into Brittany's warm body, keeping her eyes shut even when Brittany presses a kiss to just below her ear. A few more kisses get dotted along her skin, and Santana feels Brittany smile against her when she shifts her hand from where it's flung haphazardly across the sheets to tangle in Brittany's fingers resting on her stomach.

"Good morning." Brittany murmurs into her ear, and Santana does her best not to melt.

Blinking her eyes open sleepily, she spares a moment to shout internally at herself for not bothering to take her contacts out last night, cause her eyes hurt like a bitch now, before stretching, and rolling over to face Brittany.

And well, waking up to Brittany's gorgeous blue eyes is definitely something Santana could get used to.

"Morning gorgeous." Santana replies, her voice still low and thick from sleep. "How long have you been awake?"

"Only a few minutes. You're cute when you sleep." Brittany says, and Santana should probably find that creepy on some level, but there is nothing not good about Brittany thinking she's cute, so.

Santana smiles like a moron, before pushing herself up onto her elbow so she can peek over Brittany's shoulder at her alarm clock, to see that it's just gone 8am. Her first thought is something along the polite lines of _why the actual fuck are we awake so goddamn fucking early_, and her second, but more important thought, is that the other four will still be passed out, so she doesn't hesitate to drop back down to the bed, shuffling forward until she can kiss Brittany.

The blonde inhales sharply in surprise, before relaxing against Santana, kissing her back slowly. It's just a simple, drawn out good morning kiss, nothing more than their lips sliding softly against each others, but then the hand resting on Santana's lower back is pushing gently, urging her forward, and Santana's nipples are brushing against the fabric of Brittany's bra, and the previous night comes flooding back to Santana in one very nice, very hot memory.

The images flash through her brain, Brittany's face contorted in pleasure when Santana was squeezing her boobs, Brittany's fingers circling her own nipples, Brittany's hands on her thighs, pushing her legs apart, and she whimpers quietly, trying to press closer to the blonde as she opens her mouth against Brittany's and kisses her deeper, their tongues brushing together instantly. Heat spreads through her body as she wraps her arms around Brittany's shoulders, and the hands on her back drop down to cup her ass, pulling her closer until they're pressed together fully, chest to chest and hips to hips.

Santana moans, slightly louder when Brittany sucks on her tongue, and raises her hands to tangle in Brittany's hair, brushing it out of the way so it doesn't interfere with their kiss.

They kiss for long moments, each one feeling simultaneously like too much and not enough for Santana, and somewhere along the line, Brittany shifts until she's in Santana's lap, her never ending, and very _bare_ legs on either side of Santana's equally as bare waist. Santana's hands immediately slide down from her hips to her legs – she's only human – stroking her palms over Brittany's thighs.

Santana makes a mental note to ask Brittany what moisturizer she uses, because Brittany's skin is ridiculously soft, but her brain pretty much shorts out when Brittany's tongue dips back into her mouth and the blonde kisses her deeply, her quiet whimpering sending vibrations through Santana's body.

Santana's hands curve around to the backs of Brittany's thighs, sliding slowly up until they're on the blonde's ass, squeezing gently. Brittany moans quietly, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, before nudging Santana's jaw up with her nose so she can kiss down her throat.

Santana sighs out a soft hum of Brittany's name, her hands moving to trail up the blonde's back, getting lost in the feel of Brittany's lips pressing against her skin, Brittany's tongue sliding against her pulse point, Brittany's teeth grazing along her collarbone.

If there's a better way to wake up, Santana isn't aware of it. Cause waking up like this? With Brittany invading her every sense and surrounding her completely? Totally the best morning _ever_.

Before they can get too carried away, Brittany starts slowing down the kiss until they're just exchanging gentle pecks. Kissing Santana a final time, she pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against Santana's. "Okay no, _now_ it's a good morning." She giggles, and Santana can't help but laugh, smiling dopily at her favorite blonde as she lets her palms return to the smooth skin of Brittany's thighs, still marvelling at how soft they are.

Her thoughts on Brittany's skincare regime are cut short when the blonde suddenly sits up, the sheets covering them pooling at her waist, before raising her arms above her head and stretching.

Santana's possibly drooling, but she couldn't give a crap when all this bare Brittany is suddenly in front of her, the early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains hitting all of Brittany's delicious curves just right.

She can pretty much feel all the fluid in her mouth leaving to head somewhere much further south as she trails her eyes across Brittany's body, her head tilted back slightly as she stretches, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes closed and a content smile on her face.

Santana drops her gaze to Brittany's chest, and spends a few seconds appreciating Brittany's perfect boobs, and the blue bra encasing them. She tries not to give in to the sudden burning temptation to sit up and ravish the blonde's chest with her lips, teeth, tongue and probably fingers, because even though she definitely did not get enough one-on-one time with Brittany's tits last night, there'll be plenty of other opportunities to fully appreciate Brittany's body – she hopes – when they are completely alone.

Sliding her left hand up from Brittany's thigh, Santana brushes her fingers against the blonde's abs, distracted by the feel of the muscles flexing under her touch, and over her hips before sliding up the gentle curve of Brittany's waist, and she wonders how the hell she got so lucky.

When she eventually manages to drag her eyes back up to the blonde's face, Brittany's looking down at her with an amused smile, her arms still raised above her head as she gathers her hair into a ponytail.

"Done yet?" She questions with a giggle, and Santana laughs, grabbing at Brittany's hands affectionately when they lower to rest on her stomach, tangling their fingers together. Brittany pokes her in the stomach, and when she looks down towards their hands, it's then that she realizes she's still topless.

Santana's never exactly been shy about her body, she knows she's hot and okay, the boob job was a momentary lapse in her self-esteem, but she can't help but start to feel a tiny bit self-conscious when she feels Brittany's gaze drift up from their entwined hands to her bare chest.

At this point Brittany is hardly a stranger to her boobs, and Santana had been in a pretty open position last night, but that had been when the lights were off, and any other time Brittany had been preoccupied with her chest she'd still had clothes on.

Now, Santana can feel the early morning sunlight on her skin, and Brittany can see _everything_. She feels very open. She doesn't know if she likes it.

"What?" She says, slightly uncomfortable under Brittany's scrutinizing gaze.

"Nothing," Brittany breathes, letting one hand drift up Santana's stomach, between her boobs before brushing her fingers over a spot on Santana's collarbone. Santana tries to look down to see what's caught Brittany's attention, probably giving herself an attractive triple chin in the process, and smirks when she sees a fresh bruise blooming on her skin.

Guess she'll be digging out the concealer before leaving her room then.

"You're just…" Brittany continues, moving her hand up to cup Santana's cheek, and Santana pulls herself up into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around Brittany's waist and brushing her lips against her cheek, the reverent way Brittany's looking at her sending a familiar flush through her body, and making her want to be as close as possible to the blonde.

"I'm what?" Santana says, smiling at the shiver that runs through Brittany when she presses her lips to the spot just below Brittany's ear that she's discovered makes the blonde practically melt.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Brittany's whispers back immediately, winding her arms around Santana's neck and nuzzling closer.

Santana tries to keep her mini heart attack subtle, and bites her lip to try and contain the enormous smile that spreads across her face, but then thinks fuck it, and leans back until she can see Brittany's face, an adorable pink blush painting her pretty face.

"Really?" Santana whispers, and they could probably be shouting and it wouldn't wake the others, Kurt could probably sleep through a nuclear bomb, but it feels so much more special, more _intimate_ when they're both whispering.

Brittany bites her lips and nods, a soft smile coming over her face.

"Thank you, but I have to disagree with you," Santana says, trying to resist the urge to kiss the adorable confused look off the blonde's face. "I mean, I'm kinda biased, but I happen to think you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

Possibly one of, if not _the_ cheesiest thing Santana has ever said, but she's decided to give up caring how much of a main character in a romance novel she sounds like, especially considering the way her little compliments make Brittany's already gorgeous face light up even more.

Brittany leans down to kiss Santana, pressing their lips together gently and flicking her tongue against her bottom lip, and Santana is more than happy to just tug Brittany down and stay cuddled up with her the rest of the morning, but her stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble loudly.

And of course, it isn't just a small grumble that only Santana would feel; it's one of those foghorn growls that sound like a whale's mating call.

Brittany pauses in kissing her, and Santana groans in embarrassment when she feels Brittany start to giggle, before pulling back and looking down at Santana, pressing her lips together to try and stop laughing.

Another loud rumble echoes through her room, and Santana lets herself fall back onto the bed in defeat, pouting up at Brittany when she bursts into giggles.

"Breakfast?"

/

"Are you okay?" Brittany says through a mouthful of toast.

"Huh?" Santana replies distractedly, rooting around in the refrigerator for some blueberry jam. _If that pig Quinn has eaten it all…_

"About last night…" Santana pauses her jam hunt, looking over her shoulder to where Brittany's sat at the table, in a pair of Santana's pyjamas. Well, a white tank top and bright red flannel pants – a _coming out present_ courtesy of Kurt – she'd found at the bottom of her underwear drawer. A tank top that is tight enough on Santana, so on Brittany…

Santana snaps her gaze up from Brittany's chest when the blonde clears her throat, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Sorry, what?" Santana says innocently, smirking when Brittany rolls her eyes, contradicting herself slightly with the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"As I was saying, I mean, you obviously have your reasons for wanting to take things slow, and what happened last night wasn't exactly slow, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I kinda feel like I might have pressured you-"

"What? No, no Britt, you didn't, I promise." Santana interrupts, forgetting about the jam situation and whirling round to face Brittany completely. "I liked it. Uh, I mean," Santana pauses, feeling herself flush, although she's not sure why, since she's done much dirtier things that she's then proceeded to inform Quinn or Kurt about in great detail while managing to keep a straight face. "You didn't like force me or anything, I wanted to. Yeah, it really was not slow, but uh, I think I needed it."

At Brittany's questioning look, Santana ignores the way her face is heating up and takes a deep breath before talking again. "I mean, you turn me on so fucking much, sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't get some kind of relief," Brittany's confused look morphs quickly into an evil smirk. Tease. "I don't think I could have done, you know, _everything_, with you last night, but what we did do… It was amazing, Britt."

"So you don't regret it?" Brittany asks apprehensively, fiddling with the crust of her toast.

"I don't." Santana confirms, smiling at Brittany's adorable nervous expression.

Glancing over to the sofa to make sure Kurt and Sebastian are still dead to the world, Santana crosses the kitchen, slides into the seat next to Brittany and tangles their fingers together, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss onto Brittany's knuckles.

"I just," Santana starts, ignoring the sudden attack of nerves. "I don't really have a great track record, mixing sex with feelings, and I meant what I said about wanting to do this right."

Brittany smiles affectionately at her, squeezing her fingers in encouragement.

"I just need a little more time to, you know, be ready." Santana mumbles, rolling her eyes internally at how much of a cliché she sounds.

A smile slowly spreads over Brittany's face, the corners of her lips tugging up until the smile reaches her eyes, and she leans forward to kiss Santana quickly. "Okay. Take as much time as you need."

A loud groan coming from the direction of Kurt and Sebastian cuts off the beginning of Santana's reply, so she just smiles softly in reply, dropping Brittany's hands, standing up and returning to the refrigerator.

"Oh my God I've never been so hungover in my life." Kurt's disgruntled voice sounds through the living room, and Santana pokes her head around the refrigerator door to look at them.

Kurt's running a hand through his hair, and the only time Santana ever sees him without it perfectly coiffed is in hungover moments like this. She's not sure where his hat vanished off to, and most of the straw is all over the hallway floor for some reason. Sebastian wakes up when Kurt nudges him, blinking groggily around the room.

"How much did I drink last night?" He asks no one in particular, and Santana giggles triumphantly. It's a rare occasion she's not the most hungover – or still drunk – one the next morning.

After finally locating the fucking jam behind a massive block of cheese on the top shelf, Santana strolls over to the toaster oven and shoves half a loaf of bread into it. The toaster oven was a housewarming present from their neighbor when they first moved in, and despite the fact she had been particularly horrified at him thinking her and Quinn were a couple, she is very thankful for it, considering how much she likes toast.

Kurt stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily before making a beeline for the coffee machine. Setting two plates of toast on the table, Santana sits down next to Brittany and immediately starts digging into her breakfast. Well, part one of her breakfast since she plans on bullying Rachel into making pancakes when she eventually wakes up. She's hungry okay?

Sebastian appears next to Kurt in the kitchen, and Santana is tempted to make a snarky comment about the silly smile on Kurt's face when Sebastian kisses his cheek before heading for the bathroom to have a shower and wash all the blue paint off his body.

The toast in her mouth and the fact Kurt will just fire back with a comment about how she's exactly the same with Brittany stops her, so she just keeps chewing, looking over curiously when Brittany nudges her leg with her toe playfully.

The blonde smiles impishly at her, before running her foot up Santana's bare leg, making her nearly jump out of her seat.

_Fucking tease_, she mouths at Brittany, and she just smirks back at Santana, brushing her toes higher.

Brittany is literally going to cause her to explode. She's going to end up combusting in a rainbow firework of sexual frustration and unfulfilled fantasies.

What a way to go though.

/

Rachel and Quinn make an appearance just after 9.30am. Sebastian is on his way out, saying something about having to meet his parents for brunch, when Quinn's door flies open and Rachel appears in the hallway, yawning loudly.

Quinn follows her out, heading into the bathroom, and Santana hears her clattering around in the medicine cupboard, presumably looking for painkillers.

"Quinn! The aspirin is through here!" Santana shouts, giggling evilly when Rachel whines at her to keep her voice down as she throws herself dramatically into the seat next to Brittany.

Echoing the statement, albeit in a much less polite way – _fucking hell Santana, shut the hell up_ – Quinn wanders into the kitchen, pouncing on the small box of aspirin sitting on the counter, taking two before throwing the box towards Rachel.

Quinn makes some coffee for Rachel and herself, and after a bit of prodding and pouting from Santana and Brittany, Rachel huffily agrees to make the five of them pancakes.

/

Quinn is playing about on her phone, occasionally _mhmm babe_-ing to whatever Rachel's yapping on about, when she taps Santana's arm and breaks her out of gazing lovingly at Brittany.

"Mercedes can't do dinner next Sunday anymore, but she wants to know if we can do lunch instead?" Quinn asks, looking unamused when Santana just looks at her blankly. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Forgot what?"

"Los Angeles?"

Oh. Yes, Santana had forgotten about that.

"No, of course I didn't forget." Santana protests, and Quinn just rolls her eyes before returning to her phone, apparently deciding for them and typing back a reply to Mercedes.

"Los Angeles?" Brittany asks from the other side of Santana, taking a sip of her orange juice.

"Yeah, Quinn and I are going to Los Angeles next weekend, there's a big design convention on that we're both speaking at. We leave Saturday afternoon then get back Tuesday evening."

"Wednesday evening." Quinn corrects her, not bothering to look up from her phone. "Speaking of, Britt would you be okay overseeing the photography department while we're away?" She then asks, leaning forward slightly to see past Santana.

Brittany nods, looking excited at the prospect of being in charge, a thought that quickly turns dirty in Santana's mind. Thoughts of Brittany topping the hell out of her are derailed when Rachel drops a massive plate of pancakes down in the middle of the table and she watches in amusement as Quinn and Kurt both lunge for the top one at the same time.

/

"You should tell her, you know." Kurt's annoying voice breaks the silence in the kitchen, and Santana sighs, because Kurt, much as she loves him, just does not know when to shut up, before turning round in her chair to fix Kurt with an unimpressed look.

"What?" She deadpans, raising her eyebrows at him. If he has the death wish of telling her he thinks she should tell Brittany she loves her, he is going to find the cup of maple syrup sitting next to her empty plate flying towards him very quickly.

Kurt turns around, taking a sip of the hundredth coffee he's just poured and leaning back against the counter, before nodding towards the front door, where Quinn and Brittany have evidently gotten side tracked with saying goodbye and are now chattering excitedly about something.

Santana glances up at them, smiling softly when Brittany starts flapping her arms around enthusiastically, and nearly burns herself when she tries to take a sip of her own coffee, missing her mouth completely.

"Quinn," Kurt elaborates. "You should tell her about you and Brittany."

Santana whips her head round to glare at him, growling a vague threat about keeping his voice down, despite the fact that there's no way Quinn or Brittany would be able to hear them at the opposite end of the hall, let alone over Rachel's singing in the shower.

"And why the hell would I do that? She'd kill me." Santana scoffs, turning back to her pancakes.

"And how do you think she's going to react if she finds out some other way?" Kurt's voice sounds vaguely threatening, and Santana stands up, turns around and fixes him with the coldest glare she can muster.

"If you tell her, I swear to God I will kick you so hard in the balls, you'll be singing falsetto the rest of your life."

"Santana, calm down, I'm not going to tell her. God, what kind of a friend do you think I am?" Kurt squeaks, sounding both offended and mildly terrified. "I just meant what if she walks in on you, or someone else finds out and then tells her?"

Santana pauses, keeping her eyes narrowed at Kurt for dramatic effect. He does have a point. Quinn has nearly walked in on them a few times already, and hot as it is to be nearly caught, eventually their luck will run out and Quinn will see something. Or at least see enough to figure it out.

Fuck, she was enjoying their afternoon make out sessions in her office.

"You're the only one who knows, and you're not going to tell her, are you Kurt?" Santana says eventually.

"Of course not," Kurt replies, taking another sip of his coffee before brushing past Santana, swiping his finger through the remains of the maple syrup on his plate. "But how do you know I'm the only one who knows?"

Santana's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "You're the only person I've told," Santana pauses. "Well, you're the only one who figured it out."

"Has Brittany told anyone?" Kurt asks, licking the syrup off his finger before looking questioningly at Santana.

Santana is about to scoff a condescending _of course she hasn't_, but pauses before the words can escape. Has Brittany told anyone? She's nearly 100 per cent sure Sam doesn't know, and obviously Quinn doesn't either, but Brittany's close friends with Tina and Unique as well, and there's always a chance Brittany's confided in someone about them.

She likes to think she'd be able to tell if Tina knows or not, but she isn't sure, and she definitely doesn't know Unique well enough to be comfortable with the possibility of her knowing about Santana's personal life.

Ignoring Kurt's stare burning into the side of her face, she waves goodbye to Brittany when Quinn eventually shuts up and lets her leave, making a mental note to ask Brittany about the possibility of other people knowing another time.

/

Rachel and Kurt eventually fuck off an hour after Brittany, leaving Quinn and Santana alone to tidy up the carnage left over from the night before.

It takes them a few hours to clean the living room, Quinn insisting on going the whole nine yards and hoovering and dusting everywhere, and Santana is scrubbing a dubious stain off the kitchen counter when Quinn pops up the other side of it.

"You and Brittany are awfully close."

Well Quinn is certainly straight to the point today.

"And?" Santana says, hoping Quinn will drop the subject.

"Why'd she stay here last night?" Evidently luck is not on her side today.

"Mercedes went home with Sam, and Britt wasn't too into the idea of listening to them going at it all night."

Quinn looks at her calculatingly for a moment, and Santana realizes she said Britt instead of Brittany at the same time Quinn speaks again.

"Where'd she sleep?"

"In my bed, I slept on the floor." Quinn arches an eyebrow at her and Santana rolls her eyes, returning to scrubbing at the stain. "I'm not the monster everyone makes me out to be, you know, that sofa is uncomfy as shit to sleep on, I wasn't gonna make her sleep there."

"You are _just_ friends though, aren't you Santana?" Quinn says after a pause, in that level tone that Santana knows means _answer very fucking carefully Santana Lopez_.

Santana gulps, before flinging the sponge into the sink and wiping her hands on a towel, turning around to face Quinn.

"What exactly are you implying here Fabray?" Santana says, hoping she sounds casual as she makes her way into the hallway with a giant bin bag, starting to pull the cobwebs off the wall.

"That I've seen the way Brittany looks at you. I think she has a crush on you. I also think it might be mutual." Quinn replies instantly. Well. Shit.

Keeping her back to Quinn, Santana forces out a cross between a laugh and a scoff. "A crush? We're not in middle school anymore."

"Santana." Quinn snaps, and Santana sighs, abandoning the cobwebs to look at Quinn.

"Quinn, I am not sleeping with our employee," It's technically not a lie… "Nothing is going on with Brittany and me," Okay _now_ she's lying. "We're just friends, okay?"

Quinn narrows her eyes suspiciously, but doesn't press the issue further, instead twirling round and heading for their pile of takeout menus, asking if Santana would prefer pizza or Chinese tonight.

Santana says pizza, and she gets back to cleaning the hallway. She is now officially lying to Quinn about her and Brittany. There's a feeling stirring in her stomach that she eventually identifies as guilt, and she tries to ignore it, hoping it'll go away.

It doesn't.

Santana has no idea how Quinn is going to react when she eventually finds out about her and Brittany, but she knows her best friend will be hurt about the lying.

Jesus, why can't things ever be _simple_?

/

Mid-Monday afternoon, Brittany comes sweeping into Santana's office, shutting the door with a seductive smile, and really, this is becoming a regular occurrence that Santana has absolutely no problem with.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lopez." Brittany smirks, stalking towards Santana's desk, and really, Brittany staying "in character" of the _good employee_ – despite the fact everyone at Lopez-Fabray is on first name terms – should not be this hot, but Santana feels like a horny teenage boy when Brittany leans forward and rests her hands on the desk, seemingly completely aware of the fact Santana can now see right down the front of her shirt.

There isn't a specific dress code at the studio, the employees can wear whatever they like – Santana and Quinn just dress up a bit more considering they're the bosses – but Brittany's clearly been taking a leaf out of Santana's book, and holy shit does she pull off lesbian power suit well. The bright red shoes kind of throw Santana off a bit, but the skin-tight black jeans – the blonde is apparently taking a few liberties with her definition of the word _suit_ – white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and the black suspenders, _oh God the fucking suspenders_, are a very welcome distraction to the boring paperwork Santana's working on.

Really, it should be illegal to be as hot as Brittany is. Santana feels like she's about to explode.

Brittany clears her throat slightly, and Santana drags her eyes up from the black bra covering creamy skin to blink innocently at the blonde. "Can I help you with something, Miss Pierce?"

Brittany bites her lip in that maddeningly distracting way she does, and Santana's gaze fixates on the blonde's mouth, watching her lips curve into a smirk. "I was just wondering what you were doing later?"

Santana knows exactly what, or rather _who,_ she'd like to be doing, and she's pretty sure Brittany has a fairly good idea of what she's trying hard not to think about, if the way the blonde's eyes have dropped to Santana's lips is any indication.

Santana leans back in her seat, picking up a pen and absent-mindedly twirling it around, then smirking when Brittany's eyes snap to her fingers. "I didn't have any plans. Are you offering?"

Her smirk grows when Brittany's darkened eyes shoot back to her own, but it falls off her face and she squeaks when Brittany stalks around her desk, leaning down to rest her hands against the armrests, trapping Santana against her chair and towering over her.

"Sam's not gonna be home tonight." Brittany whispers, her eyes locked on Santana's lips, and well, since Brittany doesn't seem too bothered about eye contact, Santana lets her own hungry gaze drop to Brittany's chest again, and up close, she realizes the black bra is actually a black lacy bra. Holy shit.

"What are you suggesting?" Santana replies lowly, and her voice has dropped down to that husky _I want you_ tone, which she knows turns Brittany on.

"Well," Brittany starts, leaning forward to brush her lips against Santana's cheek. "If you don't have plans," Her lips slide down to Santana's jaw, sucking gently at the skin. Santana bites down on the whimper threatening to slip through her lips. "If you wanted some, you could come over." Brittany's lips are now at her ear, and she bites gently at Santana's earlobe.

Pulling back, Brittany bites on her bottom lip again, slowly dragging her eyes up from Santana's lips to her eyes. "Just a suggestion." She adds, with a raise of her eyebrows.

Santana loses the battle with herself and whimpers quietly at the lust filled way Brittany is looking at her. It suddenly feels like a million degrees inside her office, and she gulps, reaching forward to grasp a hold of Brittany's suspenders.

Tugging on them until Brittany gets the hint and clambers into her lap, Santana leans forward to kiss Brittany's throat, breathing in deeply and inhaling the blonde's intoxicating scent. Smelling someone might be a little weird, but Brittany smells so fucking good, a mix of her perfume and coconuts from a body wash or moisturizer or something.

"And what are you suggesting we do?" Santana mumbles against the skin of Brittany's neck, brushing her lips against where she knows she left a hickey on Saturday night. Brittany whimpers, her hands sliding up to tangle in Santana's hair, pressing gently on the top of her head until Santana moves her kisses lower, sliding her lips across Brittany's collarbone.

"We could watch a movie," Brittany starts, the fingers in her hair tightening slightly when Santana lifts her hand to move the shirt's collar out of the way and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the exposed skin, sucking gently when Brittany cuts herself off with a groan.

"And cuddle on the sofa," The blonde in her lap continues, whimpering and rocking her hips down when Santana's hands land on her ass, squeezing through the tight fabric of her jeans.

"And?" Santana prompts, brushing her nose along the ridge of Brittany's collarbone before moving lower still, dragging her lips along the beginning swell of Brittany's breast.

"Fuck, _Santana_," Brittany moans quietly when Santana drags her hands up Brittany's back and around her torso, before palming both breasts at once, squeezing and massaging them gently.

Santana's not sure how Brittany asking her what she was doing later turned into her groping the blonde while she straddled her, but she's not really complaining, especially not when Brittany keeps whimpering her name in that hot as fuck, breathy moan she does.

"Keep talking Britt-Britt." Santana teases mockingly, smirking up at the blonde.

"Um, we could cuddle," Brittany says breathlessly, her eyes locked onto Santana's fingers as they slowly move from her tits to the top button on her shirt, popping it open slowly, before doing the same to the second button, revealing most of the black lacy bra encasing Brittany's boobs.

"You already said that." Santana murmurs, before leaning forward and kissing the swell of flesh, sliding her tongue along the hem of the bra and sucking gently on the skin of Brittany's right breast. Brittany seems to appreciate it, her nails digging into Santana's scalp and her head tossing back, panting heavily.

"We could do… Stuff." Brittany mutters distractedly, arching her back slightly and holding Santana's face closer to her boobs.

"Santana," Brittany whines when Santana leans back from her chest, and Santana laughs, tilting her head up until the blonde kisses her.

They really shouldn't be doing this in her office, since there's no way of easily explaining it away if anyone, say, _Quinn_, were to walk in. And Santana knows they definitely need to be more careful now that Quinn is suspicious, but seeing Brittany like this, so turned on, so wanton, drives her crazy and makes her forget anything that isn't to do with the gorgeous blonde.

Her desk phone starts ringing loudly, and they both jump in shock, nearly falling off the chair. Caught up in giggling, Santana doesn't answer the phone in time, and Kitty's voice comes floating through the answering machine, informing Santana there's a client here to visit her and Quinn.

Santana groans, letting her head fall back against the chair. Sitting in a meeting with Quinn and Mr. Stevenson, the owner of some cosmetics company is not exactly preferable to staying here, with Brittany on top of her.

"I have to go." She pouts up at the blonde, and Brittany giggles, swooping down to give her another kiss.

"I'll see you later though?" Brittany whispers against Santana's lips, and she nods, capturing the blonde's sweet lips a final time before nudging Brittany off her lap.

Santana watches Brittany skip out of her office, a flirtatious wink thrown over her shoulder, before shaking her head and gulping down the rest of her glass of water in an attempt to tame the raging arousal now burning through her body.

It doesn't really work.

/

Apparently Santana's luck is still noticeably absent, since she gets a text from Brittany at around 7pm while she's getting ready to go over to the blonde's. Quinn and Rachel are out having dinner with Kurt and Sebastian thankfully, so she hadn't had to worry about Quinn wondering where she was going.

_Hey sweetheart, change of plans, Sam is actually staying in tonight cause he and Mercedes had a massive fight :( Want to do something else? Xxx_

Santana huffs, damn Fishface cockblocking them. She would invite Brittany over for a "movie night" here, but Quinn said her and Rachel were coming back after dinner for their own movie night. An actual movie night apparently, not a euphemism for something much dirtier. How boring.

_Dammit, I was looking forward to "watching a movie" with you :P Of course, got anything in mind? Xxx_

Santana smirks when she types the little emoticon, debating between a winky face and a tongue face. First world problems. She quickly does her make up, her phone buzzing a few minutes later.

_So was I :P Your office this afternoon was just the previews :P Well I'm kinda having a froyo craving… Xxx_

Santana bursts out laughing at Brittany's reply, typing back telling her to meet her at Pinkberry in 30 minutes.

/

They have their usual disagreement about whose turn it is to pay, and eventually Brittany wins, claiming that the Coney Island date was so amazing that she has to pay for this one, despite the fact she'd bought their coffee yesterday, and Santana is banished to find some seats.

Brittany's wearing tight blue jeans, and the heeled ankle boots she has on just make her ass and legs look even more amazing than usual, so Santana happily pervs and appreciates until Brittany pays, and starts making her way over to their table in the corner.

A pot of vanilla and raspberry frozen yogurt is set down in front of her, and she thanks Brittany before pouncing on it. Brittany giggles at her enthusiasm, digging into her own cup as well.

The television in the corner of the café is showing commercials at the moment, and it switches to one about Vogue just as Santana glances up at it. Reminded of her little chat with Kurt on Sunday, she places her spoon down and looks at the blonde across the table from her.

"Brittany, can I ask you something?"

Brittany looks up questioningly, sliding the spoon out from between her lips, and okay, distracting much.

"Um, have you told anyone about us?" Santana asks, her voice wavering on the word _us_. What _us_ is exactly, is still undefined between them, and Santana gets nervous thinking about it. For there to be a proper _us_, they'd have to be officially together, in a relationship, _girlfriends_.

Which, honestly, is what Santana wants. She's still just scared she'll fuck something up, ruin the best damn thing that's ever happened to her.

She knows it's dumb, she trusts Brittany, and she loves Brittany, even if she hasn't admitted it out loud yet, but she can't. She's still just too scared.

Brittany is amazing, and perfect doesn't even come close to describing her, but Santana just can't let go of her fears. That Brittany won't love her back. That Brittany will leave her eventually, just like Spencer did, and just like her Dad did.

They're very deep thoughts to be having on their third date in a Pinkberry, so Santana is grateful when Brittany replies, breaking her out of her thoughts. "I have."

Well.

Santana freezes, staring at Brittany, who sighs and places her spoon down, reaching across the table to take Santana's hands. "I told Artie. He's my friend from back home, and I've told him about us, cause I needed to talk to someone about you."

"Wait, what about me?" Santana asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Well, I first told him about you after we kissed, and then you told me it couldn't happen again, cause I was kinda confused why you would kiss me then say it shouldn't have happened," Brittany says, and Santana instantly feels like crap for making the blonde feel like that. "But then you told me you liked me, and I liked you too, and now I kinda just use him to gush to about how amazing you are. He's like my agony aunt, except male. An agony uncle." Brittany finishes, blushing slightly.

Santana smiles – _Brittany thinks she's amazing_ – before leaning over the table and gently kissing the blonde. Brittany smiles into the kiss, sucking lightly on Santana's bottom lip before brushing her tongue across it, and Santana pulls back before Brittany's tongue can get anywhere else, they're still in public after all, and leans back, smiling dopily at Brittany.

"Have you?" Brittany asks, but Santana is too distracted by Brittany sliding her tongue along her bottom lip, and Santana knows the blonde is tasting _her_ on her lips, and the flush that spreads through her body at the thought of Brittany staring up at her from between her legs, licking her lips as she tastes Santana in _another _way, is far too inappropriate for public.

"Huh?" Santana says, refocusing on Brittany's bright blue eyes when the blonde says her name again.

"I said have you told anyone about us?"

Santana takes her hands back, picking up the spoon and returning to her yogurt. "Kurt knows." She tells Brittany before taking a spoonful of the delicious yogurt.

"I thought he did," Brittany nods, and continues at Santana's questioning look. "On Saturday, I was dancing with him and he told me not to hurt you."

Santana snorts at the thought of Kurt Hummel giving anyone the best friend's compulsory _hurt her and I'll hurt you_ speech. He must have looked as threatening as a care bear.

"I told him he didn't have to worry, cause I have no intentions of hurting you." Brittany beams at her, left hand sliding across the table to tangle her fingers together with the ones on Santana's right hand. The perks of a lefty and a righty dating.

It's such a simple, sweet statement to make, but Santana can't help but fall in love with Brittany just that little bit more for it.

/

Wednesday evening, Santana is standing outside the studio, waiting for Quinn to hurry the fuck up so they can head home, when her phone beeps. Shouting at herself for forgetting to bring gloves, since the temperature seems to be dropping by the hour, she fumbles around in her jacket pocket until she locates it, pulling it out and clicking open the text.

_Sup Lopez, you still at the studio?_

Santana squints at the screen in confusion, wondering why Puck's asking.

_I'm waiting for Quinn, we're just about to leave. Why?_

Santana glances up towards the window, glaring when she sees no sign of Quinn.

"Oh, I won't be long San, just five minutes, San, wait for me, San. Fucking bitch." Santana squeaks to herself, doing a horrible impression of Quinn, before unlocking her phone when it beeps again.

_Mind swinging by the bar on your way home? Got something I wanna ask ya._

Santana's confusion grows when Puck sends another text almost immediately after.

_Don't bring Quinn tho._

"Consider me sold." Santana mutters to herself, firing a quick text to Quinn informing her she's _not freezing her tits off any longer bitch, see you at home_ before zipping her jacket further up and flinging her arm out for a cab.

/

Walking into Puckerman's, Santana ignores the wolf whistles coming from the drunken idiots by the pool table and makes her way up to the bar, sliding onto an empty barstool near the end of the bar.

Puck's nowhere to be seen, so she assumes he's in the back, changing a keg or something equally as exciting, so she orders a drink from the blonde girl behind the bar and shrugs off her jacket, pulling her phone out of her pocket and unlocking it.

_Hey baby, how are you? I didn't get to see you today :( xxx_

Santana rolls her eyes at herself out of habit, if she misses Brittany after one day, she's sure she'll be more delightful than usual when her and Quinn are in Los Angeles.

Her phone beeps at the same time her drink is set down in front of her, and she waves the bartender off with a _put it on Puck's tab_, and opens the reply from Brittany.

_I'm gooood, Sam and I are having a movie night :D Well, I'm watching the movie and he's staring at his phone. I think he and Mercedes are still on the stones :( how are you? xxx_

Santana feels a bit of sympathy for Sam, he seems like a genuinely nice guy, so when she sees Mercedes at the weekend, they'll be having a little chat about a certain big-lipped blond. She takes a sip of her drink before starting to reply, but her phone buzzes again before she can.

_Oh and I miss you too :P xxx_

She laughs, and smiles like a fool at her phone, pointedly ignoring the bartender when the blonde shoots a weird look at her.

_Who said I miss you :P well I'll see Mercedes this weekend, I'll talk to her for Sam if he'd like? I'm good too, I'm at Puck's cause he said he wanted to talk about something… I'm worried lol xxx_

As if on cue, the door leading to the back of the bar flies open and Puck appears. He says something to the bartender before spotting Santana, grabbing a beer and walking around to her side of the bar, dropping himself into the stool next to her.

"Sup hottie."

"Are you allowed to drink on the job?" Santana asks dryly, arching her eyebrows at the bottle in Puck's hand.

"Nah, I'm off duty now. Katie can handle the rest of the night." He nods towards the blonde girl polishing glasses at the other end of the bar.

Santana glances over at Katie, who smiles nervously and blushes when she notices Santana looking at her. Oh God.

"She's cute." Santana says, since Puck will probably get suspicious if she sees an, admittedly very attractive, girl and doesn't make a comment.

"Yeah she is," Puck agrees, taking a loud gulp of his beer before putting it down on the bar. "Kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

He grins at her like he knows something she doesn't, and she just raises her eyebrows, wondering what the hell he's talking about.

"I'm kinda hurt you know, you been holding out on me Lopez." Puck continues, and Santana just gives him a look that clearly states _I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about._

"Oh come on, you're seriously not gonna tell me?" Puck says, holding his hand over his heart and trying to sound sincere. Key word, _trying_. "Talk about harsh. I thought we were friends, bro."

"Puck," Santana says, trying to ignore the weird feeling in her stomach. _Puck doesn't know, there's no way he can know._ "First off, don't ever call me your bro again," Puck opens his mouth as if to protest but Santana holds up a finger, shutting him up. "I will accept lesbro however. And second of all, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Blondie!" Puck exclaims, looking offended that Santana doesn't know what he's on about. Santana pauses, a feeling similar to dread starting to spread through her body.

Puck _can't_ know. How can he possibly know?

The small, rational part of Santana's brain is telling her that Puck hasn't actually said Brittany's name, so he could just have seen her talking to a blonde girl and assumed, like Quinn had done when they had been at Institute with Holly and her friends.

But the bigger, irrational part of her brain ignores that completely, and Santana can feel herself starting to panic at the thought of Puck possibly having figured out there's more to Brittany and Santana that just _friendly professionalism_.

More importantly, if _Puck_ can figure it out, then there's a way higher chance that _Quinn_ could figure it out. Shit.

Thankfully Puck is still dim enough not to pick up on Santana's silence, and just continues yapping about how _wounded_ he is Santana hasn't told him. Picking up her own drink, Santana downs the remaining quarter of the bottle to attempt to calm her nerves, and swivels round on the stool to face Puck completely.

"Puck, I really have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you could try, oh I don't know, explaining?" She says sarcastically, automatically sliding into defensive, folding her arms across her chest and cocking her head to the side condescendingly.

Puck huffs, before waving at Katie and gesturing for two more drinks. "Okay, you know my bro, like, actual little brother, Jake?"

Santana just stares at him.

"You've met him like three times. Yeah, you were like blackout drunk two of those times, but you have met him." Puck continues, grabbing at his drink when Katie appears and sets them down, smiling shyly at Santana again before leaving.

Just what Santana needs, another girl all moon-eyed over her. Fantastic. _Although_, Santana muses as she takes a sip of her own drink, _jealous Brittany could be kinda hot…_

She's saved from her thoughts going into more pervy territory when something Puck says catches her attention. "And apparently it's not as lame as it sounds, but Jake works at a Pinkberry."

Santana freezes, her hand holding her drink still mid-air. Fuck.

"And Jake told me earlier that he saw you and some hot blonde chick on what was definitely a date."

Santana can't even deny it was a date, considering the whole holding hands and kisses thing. Crap.

"So come on Lezpez, who's the lucky lady?" Puck smirks, waggling his eyebrows before taking a large gulp of his beer. "I mean, obviously it's not Quinn since she's all shacked up with Berry now, and it's not gonna be that Brittany chick, hot as she is, so-"

Santana stiffens at Brittany's name, and then whips round to glare at Puck, cutting him off.

"What? I was just saying-" Puck pauses, his eyes widening and his mouth slowly dropping open as realization washes across his face. "No fucking way."

There's a choice of two things Santana could do. The more intelligent option would be to deny everything and pray Puck doesn't ask Quinn about _Blondie_, but because Santana's an idiot, she does the exact opposite.

"You cannot tell Quinn." She hisses, desperation edging into her tone as she basically confirms what Puck is thinking.

"You're banging a chick that works for you?" Puck stares at her incredulously, lowering his voice when a couple sitting a few seats down from them look towards them. "Are you crazy, isn't that like, illegal?"

"No, it's not illegal, just..." Santana trails off, dropping her eyes to her lap, cradling her drink in her hands.

"Like way unprofessional," Puck finishes for her. "I mean dude are you even thinking about the consequences of boning your employee or are you just rationalizing with your vagina again?"

"Puck!" Any other situation Santana would have burst out laughing at that comment, but she can feel the panic spreading through her body.

This is what she's been afraid of, someone finding out and not approving. She knows Puck is just looking out for her, since sleeping with your employee is a bit on the unprofessional side and could have the unfortunate side effect of ruining both Santana's, Brittany's _and _Lopez-Fabray's reputation, but she'd been happy to blissfully ignore that up until now.

"Dude I'm serious. Like, can't you get done for sexual harassment or something?"

Santana freezes. Shit. Puck has a point. Can she?

She probably could if Brittany pressed charges, but the blonde has no reason to. They're technically _dating_, Brittany's said she likes Santana a lot, and most of the time it's Brittany doing all the teasing and seducing, getting _her_ all flustered, so it's not like Santana is forcing Brittany into anything.

"Brittany wouldn't do that." Santana says eventually, wondering if she stares at the label on her bottle long enough if it'll burst into flames.

"How do you know?"

"I just do!" Santana snaps, glaring at him in response, and Puck recoils slightly at her outburst. "Okay, Puck, she just wouldn't." She sighs out, returning her gaze to the bottle in her hands, picking at the edge of the label in nervousness.

"Okay. I mean, if you say so, you're gonna know your girlfriend better than I do."

Santana's head snaps back up, and she really has to stop doing that, she's gonna give herself whiplash. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Wait, what?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"So, you're banging that super hot chick- don't look at me like that, your woman's fucking hot Lopez, but she's not actually your girlfriend?" Puck stares at her, seemingly more baffled by the fact that her and Brittany aren't official than the fact Brittany's her employee.

Choosing not to enlighten Puck on the fact her and Brittany aren't even sleeping together, she takes a long drink of her beer. "She's not my girlfriend, we're just dating." Santana says eventually, and it all sounds so high school that she almost laughs.

"You mean she's not your girlfriend yet, right?" Puck says, smirking at her when she looks over at him. He seems so earnest, it's almost cute, and okay he did bring up some valid points, but at least he's supportive.

"I'm working on it." Santana says, smirking back at him, and laughing when he cheers, before tapping their bottles together.

Puck then ruins everything by asking how Brittany is in bed, and he protests loudly when she smacks him in the head, but Santana hopes that Quinn is this okay with it when she eventually finds out.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Ahoy there, the wait wasn't quite as long this time haha.

Usual thank you to all the lovely people that reviewed/favourited/followed/pimped out on Twitter lol.

Continuing to completely disregard myself, my current fic rec would be Not Attracted To You by BrittanaxLove. So much hilarity and sexual frustration in that fic, whoo.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't yell at me for the end, every story has to have some bumps in it :)

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After two very long months, the Hollidaze project is finally finished on Friday November 6th.

Holly, being Holly, is throwing a huge party – or _swanky soiree_ as she'd called it – later in the evening, and Santana is currently sitting in the meeting room with the rest of the staff, munching on Quinn's half of the complementary chocolates Holly sent, while Quinn addresses the employees sitting around.

"So since the project is now finished, Holly is having a celebration party tonight that we are all invited to. If you'd like to attend, we're meeting here at 7.30pm, before we'll get a cab to Holly's apartment in the Upper East Side for around 8pm. I know it's kind of last minute, but Holly only informed us about it an hour ago."

"Can we bring dates?" Sebastian pipes up from where he's sitting next to Sugar.

"Yes you can." Quinn replies, smiling goofily, and oh _joy_, they'll have the pleasure of Rachel's company tonight.

Santana tunes out Quinn yapping about the following week when they'll be in Los Angeles, instead glancing around the room until her eyes land on a certain blonde. She can't help but smile at the way Brittany's eyes light up when Quinn announces she'll be in charge of the photography department while they're away, and she blushes slightly, looking down bashfully when Sam grins at her, giving her a thumbs up.

Brittany's just so cute sometimes. Well, all the time.

"And Santana… Santana!" Quinn pokes her in the side of the head, and Santana blinks, snapping her eyes from one blonde to another, ignoring the way Brittany starts giggling, disguising it as a cough when Sam gives her a weird look.

"What?"

Quinn sits down in the chair next to her and whispers about _being professional Lopez_, before repeating herself. "I said, who are you leaving in charge?"

"Oh. Uh, Tina, I take it I can trust you not to destroy my department while I'm away?" Santana says, smiling over at Tina, who rolls her eyes at the sarcasm.

"I'll do my best." She laughs.

"Okay, well, we will see you all tonight then," Quinn says, dismissing everyone with a wave of her hand as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. "Oh, and it's black tie, so try and look nice." She adds on, and Santana peers over her shoulder to see her texting Rachel. Or "Rachy-Poo" with a little emoticon of a heart after it. Christ, and she thought the cupcake was sappy.

"Bringing the hobbit as your plus one?"

"Yes, Santana, shockingly enough I am bringing my girlfriend as my plus one. Are you bringing anyone?" Quinn snipes back, not bothering to look up from her phone as she adds about fifty kisses onto the end of her text. Revolting.

"God no, don't be ridiculous." Santana replies, making sure Quinn is preoccupied with her phone before looking though the crowd of employees milling around to find Brittany. Spotting her by the door chatting with Sam and Sebastian, Santana goes to stand up, but is stopped by Quinn.

"Where are you going?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "My office, _Mom_. Just cause everyone else has the rest of the weekend off doesn't mean we do. I got a call yesterday from this lady called April Rhodes, she wants us to do the marketing campaign for her."

"April Rhodes, why do I recognize that name?" Quinn muses, tapping her phone against her chin in thought.

"She owns Rhodes Liquor. I think Puck buys most of his booze from there. And I think he slept with her a few months ago too."

Quinn wrinkles her nose. "Ah. Yeah, that's where I know the name from, Puck told me all the details that night we went to Blaine's for Tiramisu Tuesday."

That was presumably the Tiramisu Tuesday that turned into Tequila Tuesday, since she has zero recollection of that, but God she wishes she could remember it.

Santana snorts at Quinn's disgusted expression, laughing at the thought of Puck telling all the sordid details of his hook-ups to her best friend. Leaving Quinn to try and get that delightful image out of her mind, Santana makes her way over to the door, raising her eyebrows meaningfully at Brittany when the blonde looks over at her.

Brittany smiles at her, nodding almost imperceptibly before returning her attention to the thrilling discussion of bowties Sebastian and Sam are having.

/

After ten minutes of sitting in her office, Brittany still hasn't appeared, so Santana decides to get the call with April Rhodes out of the way. She's halfway through negotiating prices with the woman Santana suspects is already smashed at one in the afternoon when the blonde eventually sweeps into her office, smiling brightly.

April is slurring something about different prices for each design, and Santana groans silently, mouthing _help me_ at a smirking Brittany.

"Yes, Miss Rhodes- April, sorry, look, I have to go but I can meet with you next week? Thursday morning at 9am?" She figures the earlier the meeting is, the less likely April will already be drunk. She hopes. "Yes that's perfect. Okay, thank you, see you then. Goodbye."

Santana hangs up, and resists the urge to throw her phone across the office. She's sure April Rhodes is a very nice person, but it would really help if she hadn't kept repeating herself, or pausing the conversation multiple times to top up her glass, or hadn't been hammered. Or called her Santana Banana, something she hopes _very_ much won't be repeated in the meeting the following week, since if Quinn overhears it it'll be her new nickname until Christmas.

"Who was that?" Brittany asks, walking around to the other side of Santana's desk, jumping up to sit on it, swinging her legs aimlessly.

"April Rhodes," Santana says, running a hand through her hair exasperatedly. "She wants us to rebrand all the packaging for the booze she sells. Although I'm not sure how she manages to sell any, since I'm 90 per cent sure she drinks all of it."

Brittany giggles, and Santana leans forward to scribble a reminder of the meeting next Thursday, since she'll inevitably forget, before attaching the post it to the side of her computer screen, then turning to look at Brittany.

"So did you want me here for anything specific, or did you just want your daily afternoon booty call?" Brittany asks with an innocent smile, drumming her fingers onto her knees. She has her usual tight gray jeans on today, the bitingly cold weather outside preventing her from wearing something slightly more revealing, to Santana's disappointment.

Santana laughs, rolling her chair closer to the blonde and standing up, shuffling closer and placing her hands on the blonde's thighs, pushing gently until Brittany parts them, and she can stand between them. Santana leans forward to kiss Brittany, trying to resist the usual urge to rip any and all clothes off that comes with being in close proximity to her.

"I actually did want to ask you something, but now that you've mentioned it…" Santana whispers against Brittany's lips, cutting off the blonde's giggle by kissing her again, sighing in contentment when hands settle on her hips, nudging her shirt up lightly and stroking across her skin.

It's not like Santana is incapable of keeping her hands to herself, cause she totally can – maybe – but when Brittany's wearing these ridiculously tight jeans, you can't really blame her for her wandering hands. She certainly doesn't regret it when Brittany sighs out her name when her hands circle round Brittany's hips before sliding down to her ass, tugging her closer until the blonde is perched on the edge of the desk, her legs wrapped around Santana's waist.

They kiss each other softly for a minute, Santana smiling when Brittany's fingers hook into the belt loops on her jeans, pulling her closer until her stomach is pressed against the edge of the desk and their torsos are tightly pressed together, before returning them to her waist, squeezing her hips lightly. A second smile tugs at her lips at the way Brittany's nails dig into her skin when she deepens the kiss, inhaling through her nose and brushing her tongue against Brittany's lower lip, pushing gently until the blonde opens her mouth against Santana's.

A slow burn starts pooling low in Santana's stomach when Brittany's quiet whimper echoes through her office, and she's more than happy to let this delve into a full on make-out session – they haven't had one with either of them on the desk before, so obviously it's required – but Santana is surprised when Brittany's hands shoot from her hips to her wrists, derailing them from their path towards Brittany's chest, and pins them down at her sides.

She pulls back, jutting her bottom lip out as she eyes the blonde in front of her. That's trying to catch her breath, can Santana just point out. And who looks pretty turned on.

"_Brittany_." She whines like a little child, dragging out the last syllable of the blonde's name.

"Don't pout at me San, what did you want to ask me?" Brittany replies, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth when Santana starts struggling slightly to get out of the blonde's hold. Jesus, Brittany is strong. Hot.

"Eager to get away from me, are you? How charming." Santana says sarcastically.

"Actually Sam is waiting for me downstairs. I said I'd go bowtie shopping with him for the party tonight cause he ripped his favorite one."

Santana feels a flash of irritation at the word _bowtie_, since they still remind her of a certain gay hobbit she no longer likes, and for once she isn't talking about Rachel.

Managing to wiggle free from Brittany's grasp, Santana places her palms on her desk, leaning forward and brushing her lips against a pale neck.

"I'm sure Trouty won't mind waiting a bit longer," She whispers into Brittany's ear, sucking gently on the spot just below it, fighting back a triumphant smirk when she hears Brittany fail at stifling a moan, and feels hands come up to comb through her hair, nails gently scratching at her scalp.

"Santana," Brittany pauses, and Santana sees her throat bobbing as she swallows. Humming gently against the soft skin, Santana trails her lips down further, flicking her tongue against the blonde's pulse point. "_Uh_, I really don't want you to stop, but _fuck_-" A moan reaches her ears and legs squeeze around her waist as she scrapes her teeth over the blonde's neck, sucking until a faint bruise starts blossoming. Fuck, hearing Brittany swear is so hot.

Raising her head to kiss along the underside of Brittany's jaw, Santana has every intention of getting her tongue back inside Brittany's mouth, but is sorely disappointed when hands move from her hair to grip at her upper arms, pushing her away until she's forced to lean back and look at the slightly unamused, but mostly _I want you now_ look on the blonde's flushed face.

"I gotta go," Brittany rasps, attempting to sound slightly more stern, and Santana quickly glances over to her clock and okay, Sam might be blond but he's not dumb and he's probably going to come and investigate what's taking so long if she doesn't actually let Brittany leave sometime soon.

She's about to open her mouth when Brittany speaks again. "I'll make it up to you later."

And well, Santana wasn't really _that_ bothered, but if Brittany's offering…

"I'm holding you to that promise Miss Pierce." Santana says, running her palms over clothed thighs and squeezing slightly, before trailing her fingers up to toy with the hem of Brittany's top, a white tshirt with a picture of a cartoon block of cheese on it, with the caption "You're e-dam amazing!" on it.

Fucking adorable.

"Good, because I fully intend on following through with it." The seductive inflection in the low whisper sends all thoughts about how cute Brittany is flying straight out of Santana's head, to be replaced with thoughts about what a fucking sexy tease Brittany is.

Picking her mind out of the gutter, Santana shakes her head to try and stop thinking about the blonde making it up to her, moving away from Brittany and her evil smirk and slumping back down in her seat.

"Well, I wanted to ask if you had a date to the party tonight."

It's probably slightly mean to find Brittany's attempt at disguising her disappointment cute, but Santana doesn't care. Brittany furrows her eyebrows, looking confused. "No, I don't… Do you?"

"Well that depends," Santana holds back a smirk at the hopeful look appearing through the confusion on the blonde's face, her eyes squinting at Santana and a frown slowly forming on her lips.

"On what?"

"If you say yes or not." It takes a few seconds for what Santana's saying to sink in, but then Brittany's pretty features morph into a delighted smile, and Santana barely has a second to prepare herself before she has a lapful of excited blonde, and her face and forehead are being showered with kisses.

"Wait," Brittany suddenly pauses from kissing the tip of Santana's nose, placing her hands on the chair's arms to steady herself as she leans back. "You are asking what I think you're asking, right?"

Santana smiles softly, reaching up to gently trace Brittany's cheekbone, before curving her hand to cup a soft cheek, and leaning up to press their lips together.

"Brittany, will you be my date to the party tonight?" She asks with a smile. Blue eyes light up, and Brittany kisses her again, sliding their lips together and softly sucking on Santana's lower lip before breaking the kiss and resting their foreheads together.

"Yes, I will."

_Score._

Santana just leans back and smiles at Brittany's excited expression as she goes on about matching dresses and arriving together and the possibility of slow dancing together and-

Hold the fuck up.

"Wait, Britt, I mean you'll have to be my secret date," Brittany pauses, looking confused, and it's still adorable confusion, but Santana has a sudden sinking feeling this isn't going to end well. She swallows, forcing herself to keep eye contact with Brittany. "No one can know about this, you know I don't want anyone finding out."

Various emotions flicker across the blonde's face, all passing too quickly for Santana to really gauge how Brittany's feeling. Shit, she hasn't already fucked this up, has she?

The silence in the room begins to make Santana feel uncomfortable, and she drops her gaze to her lap, wringing her fingers together nervously. And of course, the longer Brittany stays silent, the more awkward and guiltier Santana starts to feel.

"I just- I mean I obviously haven't told Quinn, and I don't know how she'd react, probably badly knowing her, but I'm sure we can find like an empty room or something to be alone together in, and Quinn's probably staying with Rachel tonight so you can come home with me if you want…"

Santana trails off her nervous ramble awkwardly, finally gathering up the nerve to look at Brittany again. Her lips are slightly parted, and she doesn't look _completely_ devastated, thank fuck, but she looks slightly hurt, maybe a bit offended.

_You're such a stellar human being, Lopez._

"Um, yeah, sorry, I just, uh, forgot." Brittany eventually stammers, seeming to find the wall behind Santana's head very interesting.

Shit.

It's been a while since Santana was her usual raging bitch self, she's due another bout of offending someone.

"Britt, I'm sor-"

"Santana it's fine, really." Brittany interrupts, shutting her eyes briefly and swallowing. When she opens them again, she tilts her head down until blue meets brown, and okay, Santana realizes she's pissed Brittany off to some extent, but she can see the blonde's putting up a front, so she's not entirely sure how much pissing off she's dealing with. "Besides, it's still hot sneaking around like this, right?"

Santana just nods dumbly, wondering if she's just ruined everything completely. Brittany clambers off her lap, smoothing a few wrinkles out of her top and running a hand through her hair, before leaning down to kiss Santana on the cheek.

"Stop thinking too much. I'll see you later gorgeous." Brittany says, smiling widely at her before heading towards the door, opening it, and vanishing through it.

"Bye Britt." Santana mumbles out to an empty office, and she sighs, leaning back in her chair and wondering how much she's fucked up this time.

/

After finishing the remnants of the paperwork for Hollidaze an hour and a half later, Santana packs up her stuff to head home, via a Starbucks of course. Yawning loudly as she sticks her head into Quinn's office to say goodbye, she considers possibly having an afternoon nap before getting ready for the party, since she is fucking exhausted, thanks to Brittany.

And no, not in the sexy way unfortunately, in the 11pm-phonecall-that-lasted-like-two-hours way. What? Not Santana's fault she likes Brittany's voice so much and didn't want to hang up.

But anyway.

Once she gets home, she makes herself a cheese and tomato sandwich in the kitchen, using tomatoes she's pretty sure Berry left last time she was forcing some new vegan recipe on Quinn, before strolling back into her bedroom and clambering onto her bed.

Piling her million fluffy pillows up against her headboard, Santana yanks her laptop onto her thighs, clicking open the brightly colored Google Chrome logo and starts the daily browse of her usual websites. She updates the studio's Twitter – _Hollidaze project now finished! Can't wait for you all to see it :) #celebrationstonight_ – before moving onto Facebook, poking Quinn, accepting Sam's friend request and liking the _Kurt Hummel is in a relationship with Sebastian Smythe_, and Blaine's comment of a single sad face underneath it.

She's having a read through an article on designdaily dot com about the pros and cons of commercials versus print ads, when the laptop chirps and she glances at her Facebook tab, a little bracketed one indicating she has a notification.

Switching tabs, a red one hovering below the friend request button catches her attention, so she clicks on it, and thank fuck Quinn is not home to hear the ridiculous happy squeak she lets out when _Brittany Susan Pierce - 12 mutual friends_ appears on the screen.

Fucking hell, all Brittany's done is add her on Facebook, not proposed marriage. _Smooth, Santana, smooth._

Shopping with Sam must be thrilling if Brittany's on Facebook, Santana thinks, ignoring the sarcastic part of her brain snarking _someone's eager_ as she presses accept, and promptly goes onto Brittany's page, clicking on the profile picture to have a snoop through the blonde's photos.

In her current profile picture, Brittany's at the beach with a miniature version of herself, whom Santana assumes is Brittany's sister. The fact the other blonde is tagged as Ashley Pierce being an obvious hint.

Reasoning that it's totally not creepy if she stalks Brittany's Facebook since they're kinda dating, Santana clicks next, looking through her photos. There's quite a few with a guy in a wheelchair, who the tags identify as Artie Abrams, and she tries to ignore the irrational flare of jealousy at one photo where Brittany's clearly quite drunk and is sitting in his lap, kissing his cheek. She totally does not hyperventilate at one or two photos where Brittany's wearing a bikini on some exotic looking beach, laughs when one of Lord Tubbington appears, sprawled out inelegantly on a sofa, and tries not to melt at one of Brittany kneeling down, her arm outstretched as she feeds a duck a piece of bread.

Opening another tab, she types in _when do ducks fly south from new york_, and flings her arm out when she has an answer, searching for her phone.

It buzzes just as she picks it up, Brittany's name and the little cupcake flashing up at her.

_I may have just stalked your Facebook photos... :P I like your profile pic, where is it? Xxx_

Having completely forgotten what her own photo is, Santana switches to her own profile and thankfully her display picture is just a photo of her and Kurt at the top of a hill with the sun setting over a lake behind them. It's at her Mom's lake house about an hour's drive from Lima, and the photo was taken after Rachel had insisted on going on a hike through the woods. Miraculously the camera Quinn used to take the picture didn't pick up how disgustingly sweaty she'd been.

Looking back down at her phone, Santana hopes the little tongue face means the weird awkwardness from earlier has vanished, and she types her reply.

_Great minds think alike evidently ;) it's at my mom's lake house back home, we were there in June :) how's shopping? Xxx_

Switching back to Brittany's page, the current photo she's creeping at is the one of Brittany feeding the duck. Opening up another tab, Santana clicks the weather icon, hoping it's not forecasted to piss down with rain next Friday. She doesn't have to wait long for Brittany's reply.

_Interesting lol. Sam is taking this whole bowtie thing very seriously. He's insisting on trying them on in the changing room and he's taking ages so I'm sitting outside waiting to give 'the final verdict' :) Xxx_

Thankfully it's not supposed to rain next week, which probably means it will, and it's supposed to be very cold which might retract from the whole romantic idea of feeding the ducks in Central Park with Brittany, but anyway. Hoping Brittany doesn't also shoot her down for her delightful words earlier, she types out her reply.

_Sounds more interesting than my afternoon of paperwork has been :P What are you doing next Friday by the way? Xxx_

Santana nosies through the rest of Brittany's Facebook, meaning to click on the photos tab so she could stalk a bit more, but missing completely and clicking on the about tab instead.

She's about to move the cursor back when she catches sight of it.

Hiding innocently between _Interested in: Men and Women_ and _Religious views: Lady Gaga_ is _Relationship status: single_.

Her phone buzzes with Brittany's reply but she ignores it, glaring at the offending words.

She has no idea why she suddenly feels upset. Brittany _is_ single, technically. They're still just dating, in secret for that matter, and Brittany's not her girlfriend, but she still doesn't like seeing Brittany advertising herself as single, since single basically means available.

_Santana Lopez take that thought back right now_, she scolds herself. Single does not necessarily mean available, and Brittany's hardly going to be slutting it up with all of New York.

Jesus Christ, she's getting sick of having this conversation with herself.

Just man the fuck up Lopez.

Or woman up, whichever.

/

The doorbell rings just as Santana's getting out of the shower. Quinn's out at their new favorite Chinese picking up takeout since they apparently don't deliver – bastards – so Santana quickly wraps a fluffy pink towel around her body, before exiting the bathroom and walking towards the front door. Peeking through the peephole to make sure it's just Rachel and not some creep; she opens the door and bursts out laughing at the scandalized look on Rachel's face.

"You know Santana, if you were attracted to me it wasn't necessary for you to get all naked and wet, all you had to do was say something. And I regret to inform you that I happen to have a girlfriend now, so you have missed your chance." Rachel says with a smirk, sliding past Santana into the apartment.

Well that's not a horrifying thought at all.

Santana just gives Rachel a disgusted look, but quickly forgives her for putting that traumatizing image in her mind when the dwarf produces a large bottle of wine from her bag.

"I knew there was a reason we were friends Berry." Santana says, following Rachel into the kitchen and pulling three wine glasses out of the cupboard that Rachel can't reach.

Resisting the urge to make a comment about Rachel's height when a dirty look gets thrown her way, Santana sucks her lips in and just places the glasses down on the table wordlessly. Christ, this is the most difficult thing she's done in a while, not make fun of Rachel.

Realizing she's dripping all over the kitchen floor – wanky – Santana informs Rachel she's getting dressed and heads back into her bedroom, dumping the towel around her body onto the floor in a soggy heap and disentangling her hairdryer from her straighteners.

Blasting her hair dry takes a few minutes, and considering her natural hair is something frighteningly similar to Diana Ross, she switches her straighteners on and, while waiting for them to heat up, wanders over to her drawers and starts rooting through the top one, musing about which underwear to wear.

She still doesn't know if Brittany's still mad at her for wanting them to stay a secret, if she ever really was actually, but the blonde did imply she wanted to go home with Santana tonight, and she did reply with an _I'd love to_ then a smiley face when Santana had texted her asking if she wanted to go on a date next Friday, so the least Santana could do is look nice for her. Granted that was before Santana shoved her foot in her mouth, but anyway.

Pushing aside a pair of green panties she's not even sure are hers, Santana spies red lace hiding at the bottom of the drawer, and smirks to herself, imagining the look on Brittany's face if or when she loses her dress to reveal _these_.

Hunting around until she finds the matching bra, Santana's smirk grows when she locates it, and she holds the tiny pieces of fabric up, looking them over. There is nothing not good about black and red lacy lingerie, and she figures Brittany will definitely appreciate her body in them.

Tossing them behind her onto her bed, Santana opens her closet and locates her dress for tonight, a tight black and purple dress with a very low neckline. Hanging it over the back of her chair, Santana quickly tugs on the underwear, remembering why she doesn't wear this bra often thanks to the itchy straps, and looks up when she hears the front door slamming, Quinn's voice grumbling about something floating through her bedroom door. Her open bedroom door.

Oh dear.

"Jesus Christ Santana, put some clothes on!" Quinn squeaks as she appears in the doorway a second late, squeezing her eyes shut, and if she hadn't been carrying a massive pile of takeout boxes, Santana thinks she probably would have thrown a hand across her eyes dramatically.

Quinn continues into the kitchen, moaning about how scarred she is, and Rachel just laughs at her.

Fifteen minutes later Santana's squeezed herself into her dress, drooled over herself in the mirror, and done her hair and makeup. Waltzing into the kitchen, she snorts at the look on Quinn's face, before pouring the remains of Rachel's bottle of wine into the single unused glass.

"Nothing you haven't seen a million times before, Mary Magdalene."

"I have no desire to ever see you naked again, Santana." Quinn deadpans, munching on a spring roll.

"Rude." Santana comments, looking around the kitchen until she sees the Chinese, and grabs a plate, opening the first box and piling some noodles onto it.

The toilet flushes, and a few seconds later Rachel appears in the kitchen. Since she's now taken her coat off, Santana can see her dress, and it's a very weird thought, finding Rachel attractive, and it's even weirder saying it loud, but Santana has to give credit to the hobbit, she cleans up nice.

"Well, congratulations Rachel, it must be that momentous day that only comes by once every few decades, but I have to admit, you actually look good."

Quinn laughs behind her, and Rachel just glares at both of them before flouncing towards her wine glass, grumbling about _being objectified_ when Santana makes a comment about _baby got back._

Once they finish their dinner, Santana happily polishing off all the leftovers, and a second bottle of wine that Quinn found in the refrigerator, they call a cab and head to the studio.

/

Kurt, Sebastian, Unique and Ryder are already there once they reach the studio, Rachel immediately shooting over to Kurt so they can fuss over each other's hair and clothes, and Quinn leaps out of the vehicle to follow Rachel, leaving Santana to pay the cab driver. Charming.

Faintly hearing music coming from the animation room, Santana follows the others in to discover Adam, Sugar and a couple people from the photography department whose names escape her are also there.

"Good evening Miss Lopez, you look lovely." Adam says, strolling over and batting his eyelashes as he pours a glass of the champagne he's holding, handing it to Santana after.

"You look particularly dashing too, Mr Crawford." Santana replies in what is possibly the worst British accent the world has ever seen, and Adam snorts, wandering over to Quinn to pour her some champagne.

Kitty arrives with her boyfriend a few minutes later, followed by Tina and Mike just after. Santana's standing next to Sebastian, laughing at the mortified look on Kurt's face as Sebastian gleefully tells her about hearing Kurt singing Baby It's Cold Outside by himself in the shower, when she hears Rory's annoying Irish voice, followed by Sam's slightly less annoying voice.

And if Sam has arrived…

Santana starts pretending to listen, shifting slightly so she can see past Sebastian to the door, and it takes every ounce of her self-control to not let her jaw smack into the floor, swear, start drooling, or some combination of the three when she spies Brittany following Sam and Rory into the room.

Fucking hell.

Santana barely notices Kurt interrupting Sebastian, asking him to get them some more drinks, and she hardly feels the first nudge, but when Kurt smacks her on the ass she yelps loudly, earning a strange look from Mike and Tina.

"What?" She hisses, resisting the urge to rub her ass, cause, yeah. Weird.

"You're about as subtle as a fire alarm." Kurt deadpans, taking a sip of his champagne nonchalantly.

Draining her own glass, she places it down on the table they're standing next to, letting her gaze wander over to Brittany. "Can you really blame me Cinderella, I mean, look at her." Santana says, gesturing in Brittany's direction, where she and Sam have been ambushed by Adam and his apparently never-ending bottle of champagne.

"Mmm. She's not really my type Santana." Kurt laughs at the unimpressed look he receives.

"Oh she's definitely mine." Santana replies, smirking at Kurt until he shudders, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"And that is my cue to leave. Try to keep it in your pants until you two are alone, just a tip."

Ignoring him as he sashays off to annoy someone else, Santana gulps and runs a hand through her hair, before making her way over to say hello to Brittany and Sam, praying that she doesn't make a complete idiot of herself.

However, Quinn beats her to it, swooping in to compliment Brittany's dress before Santana can reach her. While the two blondes fuss over each other, Santana takes a quick moment to appreciate Brittany from up close. She's wearing a deep blue dress, which stops just over halfway down her thighs. There's some kind of intricate pattern on the straps, and she's wearing silver heels, ensuring their height difference is still very much present.

Her blonde hair, however, is up in some elaborate bun, and that's what really catches Santana's attention, since the fancy do combined with the thin straps of the dress means that Brittany's neck and shoulders aren't covered.

And Brittany's throat… Santana wants to do sinful things to that neck. Kiss it, lick it, cover the expanse of pale flesh with marks from her teeth, proving that Brittany is _hers_.

"Hey Santana." Santana blinks at the sound of her name being spoken in that angel's voice, distracting her from her strangely possessive thoughts, and she looks up to make eye contact with amused blue eyes.

"You look... Nice." Santana says, and Brittany obviously looks a hell of a lot more than _nice_, but Santana sort of forgot how to form words with more that one syllable the second she caught sight of the gorgeous blonde.

Plus Quinn and Sam are still next to them, Quinn complimenting Sam on his bowtie grins like a maniac at her, and it's probably slightly inappropriate to inform an employee how stunningly drop dead beautiful she looks.

/

Santana's in the bathroom, quickly touching up her make up in the ten minutes they have before the cab arrives to take them to Holly's, when the door creaks open and Santana looks up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes in the mirror.

"So, guess what?" Brittany's voice floats into the silence, before her arms are wrapping around Santana's waist, her lips pressing a gentle kiss to the bare skin of Santana's shoulder before resting her chin on it. "I just overheard Rachel telling Kurt that Quinn's staying with her tonight."

"And?" Santana smiles, knowing where this is going, but eager to prolong their time together before they get squished into a cab with everyone else.

"That means you'll be on your own in your apartment tonight." Brittany gives her a meaningful look in the mirror, before her eyes drop to Santana's mouth as she swipes the brush of her lip-gloss across her bottom lip.

"Well that is a travesty." Santana eventually answers, after smacking her lips together and smirking at Brittany's flustered look in the mirror. Dropping her lip gloss back into her bag, Santana pulls out her mascara and leans closer to the mirror, fighting back an evil chuckle at the way Brittany's darkened eyes drop down to where her tits are practically spilling out the top of her dress. She knew this had been seventy dollars well spent.

"You know, if you wanted some company," Brittany trails off to dust a few soft kisses across the skin of Santana's throat, but pauses and leans back when Santana puts the cap back on her mascara and turns around in Brittany's arms, linking her own at the small of the blonde's back. "I wouldn't mind coming home with you." Brittany adds on, leaning back in to kiss Santana's neck.

"Oh really?"

"Mm-hmm." Brittany mumbles, nuzzling gently under Santana's jaw before dragging her lips across her throat to her pulse point. "You know, just so you aren't all alone tonight."

"How charitable of you." Santana groans, tilting her head back and sliding her hands up Brittany's back to brush against the soft skin of the back of Brittany's neck.

Brittany mumbles something about Santana smelling nice, and she's about to reply when Brittany opens her mouth against her skin and sucks on her pulse point, _hard_. A loud whimper echoes through the bathroom, and Santana's digs her nails unconsciously into the skin underneath them when Brittany starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and across her collarbone.

"Jesus, _fuck_ Brittany that feels so good." Santana gasps out, moaning loudly when Brittany's hands slide down to grab her ass, pulling them closer together.

Santana's entire body feels hot, heat flaring up between her legs before dulling back to a steady throbbing as Brittany nibbling and kissing and licking and sucking at her skin turns her on more and more. She can hear herself moaning, the occasional Spanish word mixed in with swear words and gasped pants of Brittany's name, and she should maybe be embarrassed about how easily the blonde can reduce her to a whimpering mess, but she forgets how to think when Brittany eventually abandons her chest in favor of actually kissing her.

Brittany sucks on her bottom lip, running her tongue along it until Santana opens her mouth and then Brittany's tongue is brushing against her own, the blonde kissing her hard and deep until Santana's head is spinning and she can barely remember her own name. Santana's hips jerk forward when Brittany's hands slide up to cup her breasts over her dress, whimpering desperately when she realizes how wet she is, her underwear sticking to her and rubbing against her uncomfortably.

The hands on her tits don't stop their squeezing even when the kiss breaks, Santana gasping for air in the centimetre of space between their lips. "Brittany, I, _fuck_." Santana groans, not even entirely sure of what she's saying anymore as her eyes bore into dark _dark_ blue, the animalistic way the blonde is looking at her shooting straight through her body to between her legs, and shit, she is _really_ fucking wet.

_This will be a pleasant cab ride._

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about last Saturday." Brittany whispers against her lips, her voice low and husky, and their faces are still close enough that Santana can feel puffs of air hitting her lips.

Santana blinks, trying to remember through the haze of lust what happened on Saturday, since she really is shit with dates, and it's kinda hard to think straight, pardon the pun, with Brittany pressed up against her and Brittany's hands on her tits. Saturday. Halloween.

Oh. _That_.

Before she has a chance to reply – although she's not quite sure what she'd say, probably a squeak or something equally intelligent – Brittany's lips are brushing over her cheek towards her ear. The hands on her chest haven't let up their kneading and _shit_, it is really difficult to concentrate on anything other than the steady throbbing of her soaked center.

"Like, _really_ haven't been able to stop thinking about it." Brittany breathes into her ear, followed by a low giggle that shoots straight to between Santana's legs, which really doesn't help. The inflection in Brittany's voice, coupled with the emphasis on the word _really_, makes Santana think Brittany is implying something else with-

Oh.

_Oh_.

Santana's suspicions of what exactly the blonde was doing while _thinking about Saturday_ are confirmed when Brittany leans back and smirks at her, biting her lower lip gently and dropping her gaze to Santana's mouth.

"The cab's probably here." Brittany says candidly, as if she weren't just informing Santana of certain extra curricular activities, and Santana has no idea what's gotten into Brittany tonight – like, the blonde always likes teasing her, but this is a new level entirely – but she really doesn't care.

"Just wanted to give you a quick…" Brittany pauses, leaning back so she can drop her eyes to Santana's heaving chest after finally detaching her hands from it, before dragging them slowly back up to her eyes, lingering briefly on her lips. "Preview for later." She finishes with a wink, before kissing Santana on the cheek.

If Santana weren't already convinced that Brittany is the sweetest person alive, she'd think that the blonde is possibly part devil, maybe full devil going by the seductively evil look in her eye as she flashes a smirk over her shoulder to Santana on her way out the door.

She might have the whole innocent, angelic, blue eyed blonde thing going on, but God does she make Santana want to do bad _bad_ things to her.

/

When they arrive at Holly's enormous apartment, it appears the billionaire blonde has decided to start the party early, waving maniacally at Quinn and Santana with the hand not holding a martini glass as they lead their little pack onto the red carpet – _seriously_ – that leads towards the massive living room.

"Hey bitches!" Santana wonders if the martini glass has any mixer in it. Perhaps she should introduce Holly to April Rhodes.

"Miss Holliday your apartment is the most amazing thing I've ever seen." Kurt says in wonder from beside her, staring in awe at the gigantic chandelier hanging from the high ceiling of the foyer.

"Oh, please, a handsome man like you can call me Holly. Actually, you can call me anything you'd like…"

Santana snorts, leaving Holly to flirt with a horrified Kurt as she grabs Quinn's arm and drags her to the bar she's spotted in the room ahead of them.

The living room is huge. She suspects it might have previously been two separate rooms, possibly a second smaller apartment, and Holly just knocked down a wall or two to build the bar that stretches along the entire length of one of the walls. Everything's also very sparkly and fragile looking. Santana's almost afraid to touch the glass the bartender sets down in front of her after Quinn orders two margaritas.

"This is very… Extravagant." Quinn says, managing to find the best word to properly convey Holly's apartment.

"These napkins probably cost more than our paychecks. Combined." Santana comments, picking one up and examining it. It's monogrammed with two little silver H's.

They leave the bar after the bartender tries and fails to get Quinn's number, using the excellent pick up line of _hi I'm Matt, do you have a boyfriend_, and wander through to the kitchen to get some food, acquiring the company of Rachel and Sebastian on the way.

Deciding to be a complete pig, Santana makes a beeline for the dessert table, grabbing a plate and picking up a slice of lemon meringue pie, adding a slice of key lime pie next to it.

"That's a healthy dinner." Sebastian comments as he places a slice of chocolate cake onto his own plate.

"When are we going to have another opportunity to eat as much free food and drink as much free booze as we like?" Santana replies through a mouthful of pie. Holy fuck she's going to marry Holly's chef, or become his new bff if he's a guy, because this is possibly the greatest thing she's ever tasted.

"Wait, the bar's free?" Sebastian asks with a gleeful look. "I was not aware of this." He hands his plate to Santana, shooting off out of the room, leaving her with two plates and looking even more of a pig than before.

Not that she minds, she'll take one for the team and happily eat it all, even if Quinn does appear next to her and give her a disapproving look.

/

Looking back on the night, Santana would have to say the moment things started going downhill was when the fucking DJ decided to be a total cliché, complete with _we're gonna slow things down a bit now_, and started playing the back catalogue of _World's Greatest Love Songs_.

Santana's chatting with a few of Holly's friends when I Will Always Love You is playing, is getting more food from the kitchen when I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing comes on, and she's back at the bar with Kurt when Unchained Melody starts drifting through the gargantuan apartment.

She ignores Kurt trying to get her to duet with her – she loves him and all, but no fucking way is she cooing _I need your love_ to her gay best friend – and manages to make it through the entire song without giving in, Kurt huffily stomping off to make googly eyes at Sebastian. Or convince Rachel to sing with him. That option's more likely.

Since luck seems to like shitting on Santana occasionally, she looks up from her margarita and makes eye contact with Brittany from across the room when the next song begins, and Eric Clapton starts singing about looking wonderful tonight. Of fucking course the douche of a DJ would play Brittany's favorite love song. That Brittany's apparently wants to play at her wedding, as she'd informed Santana during a game of 20 Questions a few weeks ago.

"_That's kind of a clichéd song, isn't it Britt?"_

"_They're clichés for a reason, San."_

There's quite a few people slow dancing, Unique and Ryder are being cute near the edge of the dancefloor, which is basically just the living room with all the expensive furniture shoved to the side, and Kitty and her boyfriend are making gooey eyes at each other with Mike and Tina doing the exact same thing next to them.

Her eyes shift back to Brittany, who's staring longingly at the dancefloor, and _wow_ she feels like crap. She's not entirely sure if Brittany would even want to dance _with_ her to this song, since apparently Brittany wants to have her first dance to it on her wedding day, but the way blue eyes are flickering sadly between Santana, the dancefloor, and the couples swaying around on it is hinting towards a yes, Brittany wants to dance.

And she totally would, like, she's a shit dancer and would probably stomp on Brittany's toes more times than she could count, but she'd love to dance with Brittany to some disgustingly sappy love song that she'd secretly have on her iPod, just renamed as something else, and be able to gaze lovingly into her eyes before whispering _I love you_ and kissing her softly, ignoring the inevitable comments from Kurt or Quinn of _aww, Satan's been tamed_.

As if on cue, Rachel and Quinn appear almost right between her and Brittany, and okay, the whole staring lovingly at each other thing isn't quite as cute with them as it would be with her and Brittany, but she sighs anyway. At least Quinn is having a good time dancing with the love of her life.

She might not have told Santana she's in love with Rachel yet, but Santana had overheard the end of one of their phone calls the other night, an _I love you_ followed by a _no you hang up_ on Quinn's end sending her straight into her bedroom in case she heard more and vomited all over the hallway floor.

Kurt and Sebastian appear next to Quinn and Rachel, Sebastian dipping Kurt before dragging him into a waltz far too elaborate for Eric's soft crooning, but the look of happiness on Kurt's face makes her forgive the silliness.

Sipping on her drink as she watches her two best friends dance to a love song with their partners, she really fucking wishes she could dance with Brittany like this. Shifting her eyes back to where she last saw Brittany, she's surprised to see the blonde's vanished.

Shit, she hopes Brittany's not like crying in the bathroom or something.

Draining the remains of her margarita, Santana stands up, wobbles a bit cause _shit_ there's a lot of tequila in that last drink – fucking Matt trying to get into her pants probably – before beginning the daunting task of navigating through the apartment to find Brittany. Or a bathroom, cause now she has to pee.

/

Santana doesn't find Brittany, but she does find an unoccupied bathroom on the second floor that's pretty much the same size as her own apartment's living room and kitchen combined. The six foot painting of Holly reclining on a sofa that's hanging on the wall makes her a bit uncomfortable as she's peeing, but she'd totally love this bathtub. It's got a Jacuzzi and everything. Including an entire family of rubber ducks, which remind her that she's looking for Brittany.

Only getting lost once, and walking in a couple she doesn't know furiously dry humping on a bed she hopes isn't Holly's, Santana finally manages to make her way back through to the main party area.

Her amusement from the look on the couple's face is cut short when she spies Brittany at the bar. Brittany and fucking Matt at the bar. She's sitting on one of the bar stools, her endless legs crossed with a lot of thigh on show – Santana tries to remember how to breathe – and one elbow resting on the bar, fingers toying with her earring as she laughs at something Matt says.

Santana's eyes narrow, and jealousy surges through her body when Matt leans his elbows on the bar and smirks at Brittany, a shit eating grin that just screams _I'm so getting laid_ tonight on his annoying smug face.

"Like fuck you are." Santana grumbles under her breath, earning a scandalized look from the lady walking past her.

The small, rational part of her brain screams at her that she's doing that thing again where she acts like a moron, but she ignores it as she storms up to the bar, shooting daggers and knives and all sorts of pointy objects at Matt.

Brittany looks confused at the sudden stop to Matt's sentence, and looks behind her, her eyes meeting Santana's. "Oh, hey Santana."

"Hi." She says shortly, and before smiling sweetly at Matt. "Don't you have some glasses to polish?"

The smirk falls off his face, and he glares at Santana. She happily returns the glare, fixing him with a look that clearly says _fuck the fuck off_, and does an internal victory dance when he slinks off to the other end of the bar.

Her own smirk vanishes when she meets Brittany's unimpressed expression. "Any reason you were so rude?"

"Did you want to sleep with him?" Santana snaps, and judging from the narrowing of Brittany's eyes, she probably shouldn't have said that.

"Excuse me?" Brittany squeaks indignantly.

"Cause he was looking at you like he'd already scored."

"Oh, you're in one of those moods again." Brittany says with a roll of her eyes.

"What mood?" It's Santana's turn to squeak in an offended tone.

"Where you get irrationally jealous over anybody saying hello to me and being friendly."

"I am not jealous! And even if I was, it's not irrational!" It's maybe not the best of ideas to get into this at the bar, with Quinn and Rachel still dancing to some grossly romantic song she doesn't recognize not that far away from them, but she's getting pissed off with the haughty look on the blonde's face.

"It is, thought I was your _secret_ date, remember?" It's the closest Brittany's ever come to being rude to her, as Santana doesn't like it. Not that Brittany's being rude to her, but that Brittany's being rude at all, cause she doesn't suit it.

"What- I mean- That's not fair!" Santana splutters. "Where are you going?" She asks when Brittany finishes her drink and stands up, turning away from Santana.

"The bathroom. Is that a problem?"

Like a little stalker, Santana follows her across the room, ignoring the suggestive look Kurt shoots her as he sees them both heading for the stairs, and grabs Brittany's hand, dragging her into an empty bedroom before she can protest.

"What is your _problem_?" Brittany snaps as soon as Santana slams the door, whirling round to narrow her eyes.

"My _problem_, is that you agreed to come as my date to this lame ass party and then you spent ages flirting with that guy!" Santana huffs, the jealousy flaring up and fuelling her anger.

"Santana I was not flirting with him, he-"

"Really? Cause it fucking looked like it Brittany, he was practically salivating all over you."

"Why does it even matter Santana? It's not like I would have done anything, if he'd hit on me I would have rejected him."

Santana takes a deep breath, followed by a second and a third one as she valiantly attempts to calm down.

"Would you?"

Maybe she should have taken more deep breaths.

"Of course I would!" Brittany throws her hands up and spins around dramatically, refusing to face Santana. "I came here with _you_ Santana, secret or not I'm not gonna ditch you for someone else."

"I don't-"

Brittany whirls round and fixes Santana with a steely look. "What am I to you, Santana?"

Santana pauses, whatever she was going to say dying in her throat. "What?"

"Am I just your bit on the side, huh? The moon eyed employee with a crush on her boss that feeds your ego?" Brittany says, shrugging her shoulders and raising her eyebrows, glaring at Santana.

"Of course not-"

"Do you even want to be with me?" Brittany cuts her indignant reply off, the slight waver in her voice betraying her anger. _Shit_, the last thing she wants to do is make Brittany cry.

"I- I do, Britt, it's just, Quinn, and work, and-" Santana stammers, her eyes dropping from Brittany's piercing blue gaze. It's too intense, too much.

Brittany sighs, walking towards the bed and sitting down on the edge of it, smoothing her dress over her thighs, before looking up at Santana with a tired smile.

"I know you're scared, Santana."

Santana freezes. Well that's presumptuous. And also very fucking true, but how the hell did Brittany figure that out? Is it that obvious?

_Probably, and because you're as see through as cellophane to her._

"I don't know why, but I know you are, and you're using the excuse that we can't be together because of work, and because of Quinn, but I know it's more than that." Brittany continues, folding her arms and staring straight at Santana, speaking with complete conviction.

Santana shouldn't get mad. She really shouldn't, because when she gets mad she gets irrational and always says things she doesn't mean.

"I don't know why you're so against the idea of being with me, if it's to do with your Dad or cause of a bad breakup or something, but I would never intentionally hurt you Santana. I care about you-"

"Stop, Brittany, just fucking stop acting like you know everything about me!"

Santana isn't entirely sure what it is, but something is stopping her from giving herself completely to Brittany. It's dumb, downright idiotic, she knows. She loves Brittany, and Brittany obviously wants to be with her, and she believes the blonde when she says she'd never hurt Santana. But old habits are very difficult to break, and Santana doesn't know what it is, if it _is_ her Dad, or Spencer, that's caused this dent in her ability to trust people, to just let her fucking walls down, and Brittany acting like she knows what's going on with her when she doesn't even know _herself_, it pisses Santana off.

"Of course I fucking want to be with you Britt, and fine, yes, I am fucking scared. Scared that I'll mess everything up, because you are amazing, and I'm not! I'm scared I'll let you in and we'll be happy for a bit until you realize what a fucking awful person I am and then you'll leave!"

Okay, this is slightly more than she had intended to share, but damn it feels good to finally get this off her chest.

Dropping her arms to her sides from where they'd been waving about crazily in the air, she takes a deep breath and looks over at Brittany. The blonde is staring at her, her lips parted in shock and her eyebrows raised in the cutest surprised expression Santana's ever seen.

Jesus, of course she'd still think the blonde was cute in a dramatic emotional moment like this.

"I am terrified that I got so lucky to have found someone like you, and I'll fuck something up and end up ruining the best thing that ever happened to me."

A soft smile tugs at Brittany's lips at the end of her sentence, before it disappears and her eyebrows pull together in confusion. "Why are you so convinced you'll ruin everything? You're not a bad person-"

"I'm not good enough for you Brittany!"

"That's not your decision to make though!" Brittany snaps back, evidently getting annoyed with Santana's constant interrupting. "God, do you have any idea how difficult it is falling in love with someone who refuses to love themself?"

Whatever bitchy retort Santana was about to throw back gets lodged in her throat, and her heart skips a beat before start to jackhammer madly in her chest. Ignoring the mild concerns that it might actually burst out of her ribcage to flop about on the floor, Santana blinks, stares at Brittany like a fool, and runs over the blonde's words in her head, hoping she heard right.

"You- you're falling in love with me?" Santana asks, figuring she should get some clarification since she's been known to completely misinterpret things.

"Of course I am. Did you think I wouldn't? That you could take me on the sweetest dates, tell me how pretty I am, kiss me and touch me the way you do, just be your amazing self and I _wouldn't_ start to fall in love with you? I'm not some kind of emotionless robot Santana." Brittany says with an arch of her eyebrow. Clearly she's picked that up from a certain Miss Fabray.

"I know that, I just…"

"I'm sick of being your dirty little secret Santana." Brittany breathes out, sounding exhausted, and fuck, a conversation starting with that doesn't exactly have the odds stacked in favor of it ending well. "I want to be with you, but I want all of you. There's no point being together at all if I can't have all of you."

Santana swallows, the frustration and hurt in Brittany's voice hitting her where it hurts. And because she's a bitch, and a coward, she continues to avoid the real issue, asking a question she's not sure she wants to hear the answer to.

"What do you mean all of me?"

Brittany sighs, standing up from the bed and walking forward until she's in front of Santana.

"I'm falling in love with you Santana, and I want to be with you so badly. I want to cuddle and watch those romance movies you don't admit you like on the sofa with you. I want to go on coffee dates with you as your girlfriend, not just the girl you're dating."

Brittany reaches out and grabs Santana's hands with her own, linking their fingers together.

"I want to be able to text you silly stuff so you look down at your phone, smile and accidentally walk into something. I want us to bake cupcakes or make pancakes together and end up having a food fight and getting flour everywhere. I want us to argue over whose turn it is to pay for our weekly Pinkberry dates and then just sit and tell each other bad jokes until we get asked to leave for laughing too loudly."

Brittany steps closer, their fronts brushing together.

"I want to fall asleep with my head on your chest and your arms around me, and I want to wake up at like 3am and just feel you sleeping next to me, and then I want to wake up to you in the morning but neither of us have to sneak out cause of Quinn or Sam."

Tugging slightly, Brittany drops their hands and encircles Santana's waist with her arms.

"I want us to be able to visit San Francisco for Thanksgiving, where Ashley and my parents will embarrass me with stories from when I was little, then visit Lima for Christmas and your Mom can embarrass you with your baby photos, and then spend New Years here, and I want to be able to kiss you at midnight, in front of all of our friends."

One hand lifts to cup Santana's face, her thumb rubbing gently over her cheekbone.

"I want to take you out dancing, because I've wanted to dance with you since that day on the rooftop. I want you to meet all my friends as my _girlfriend_, and I want to meet all of yours as _your _girlfriend. I want to look after you when you're hungover, because I know you'd do the same for me."

Blue eyes drop to Santana's lips briefly, before returning to her eyes.

"I want to build a pillow and blanket fort and make love to you in it. I want us to go on holiday together and we can have sex on the beach, or in the ocean or somewhere like that. I want to make you scream my name all night, fuck you over and over again anyway you want until you can't take it anymore."

Santana started gaping somewhere after the mention of romance movies, and it's probably not an attractive look, but she is _floored_. Speechless. Dumbfounded. What the hell do you even reply to something that sounds so wonderful?

"All I want is you, Santana. I know you don't think you're perfect, but love is seeing an imperfect person perfectly, and you are perfect to me. Like the song."

Brittany basically just poured her heart out, and all Santana can do is stand there and gape like a fucking goldfish.

_Say something you absolute idiot._

Brittany _loves_ her.

Brittany loves _her_.

_Brittany_ loves her.

Holy _shit_.

Santana hasn't quite wrapped her head around that yet.

"You give me butterflies, Santana, but it's like there's too many, and I feel like they're going to burst out of me. I don't like feeling like I'm going to explode."

The constant loop of _Brittany loves you_ going around in Santana's head comes to a screeching stop at the defeated tone in Brittany's words, and Santana is still speechless as the blonde strokes her cheek a final time, giving her a sad smile and stepping backwards.

"Wait, where are you going?" Santana manages to blurt out when she realizes Brittany's heading for the door.

Brittany rests her hand on the doorknob, turning slightly and looking over her shoulder at Santana. "I'm going home."

"But-" Santana starts to protest. Brittany can't just leave after a conversation like that. Or an trading of emotional words, since it couldn't really be classed as a conversation.

"I'll wait, Santana. You need time to think, but I'll be waiting for you."

And then she's gone.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Helloooo, sorry about the wait as per usual lol.

Thank you all so SO much for your reviews on the last chapter, I'm glad you all liked Brittany's little speech lol. Got a lot of messages saying they want their own Brittany, and all I have to say is the line starts behind me :P

Ngl I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, but I've been editing and rewriting so much that I'm kinda sick of it, so I hope this is alright and sorry if it sucks!

The next chapter is actually already partway written, so it will definitely not be as long a wait for the next one, that is a promise lol.

Hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave me a review if you're feeling kind. Hint hint :P

* * *

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Santana's never really given much thought to if she wants kids or not, but the six hour flight to Los Angeles with a screaming baby in the row behind her and Quinn is seriously lessening the human population's chances of a baby Lopez making an grand appearance anytime soon.

She says as much to Quinn, who doesn't even bother looking up from the magazine she's flipping through. "Thank God. One of you is bad enough, I don't want to think about a world that has your demon spawn in it."

Charming.

"You're such a bitch." Santana huffs, glaring at her phone in her lap. With its dead fucking battery. Fantastic.

"Learned from the best." Quinn replies, still entranced by an article comparing Gigantic Camera Lens Number One and Gigantic Camera Lens Number Two.

The baby, who has been quiet for the grand total of two minutes, lets out another ear piercing wail, and Santana grits her teeth together, squeezing her eyes shut and internally berating herself for forgetting to charge her phone last night. Hell she could have stuck in on charge this morning when she rolled out of bed and blinked sleepily at the screen, seeing zero texts from Brittany and 30% battery remaining.

Then again, there's a lot last night she could have done last night. She could have ran after Brittany sooner, instead of standing like a complete idiot in the middle of the bedroom replaying Brittany's speech over and over in her mind.

/

Santana blinks, the sound of a door slamming snapping her out of the endless loop of _you are perfect to me_ going around in her head. She stares at herself in the extravagant mirror opposite her.

What the hell is she doing? Brittany's just told her she's falling in love with her, and she's just standing here doing nothing.

It hits her like a freight train, and whirling round, Santana dashes towards the door, yanking it open and rushing down the stairs and into the living room. A quick sweep of the room and she doesn't see Brittany anywhere. She does spy Kurt staring at her with a _what the fuck have you done_ expression, but she ignores him, and turns to her right, barging past people in her hurry to get to Holly's front door.

"Come on, come on, hurry the fuck up you piece of shit." She mutters under her breath as she stabs at the elevator button with her finger. It dings, and she leaps into it as soon as she can, pressing the first floor button frantically.

Santana's out of the elevator before the doors are even fully open, running towards the front door of the building as fast as her heels allow her. Bursting outside dramatically, she looks around wildly for any sign of blonde hair, trying desperately to catch her breath. Goosebumps immediately shoot up her bare arms, and shit it's cold, but Santana couldn't give a fuck, stepping further onto the sidewalk and casting a glance up each way.

There's no sign of Brittany anywhere, just a cab turning the corner at the end of the street, which really, could have been anyone.

Shit, Brittany's really gone.

Fuck.

Sighing in defeat, Santana lets her shoulders drop and turns round, intending to head inside and make up some excuse about not feeling well to Quinn, grabbing her coat and going home.

/

She should have told the cab driver that took her home to take her to Brittany's instead, or she should have called, or texted, or done something when she got home.

/

Santana flicks the hallway light on when she gets in, tugging her coat off and hanging it up. Her head is spinning slightly, presumably a combination of the many margaritas she'd consumed and her little chat with Brittany.

Heading into her bedroom, she kicks her shoes off, before stripping off her dress and underwear – she snorts, whole lot of use _these_ turned out to be – and pulling some pyjamas on. A flash of white thrown over her chair catches her attention, and doesn't hesitate in dragging Brittany's hoodie out from under some of her socks and wrapping herself up in it.

She wanders through into the kitchen, and makes herself some hot chocolate, just wanting to go to sleep so this emotional evening can be over with.

It's not like it's even a bad kind of emotional, Brittany had said things that made Santana swoon like a teenager, had said she wants to be with Santana, she's falling in love with Santana, and that speech about what being together would be like… That fucking speech was possibly one of the most perfect things Santana had ever heard in her life.

But Brittany had also said a few things that Santana just can't shake. In the same sentence the blonde had announced she was falling in love with Santana, she'd implied that Santana doesn't love herself.

She scoffs out loud to her empty kitchen, putting her mug of milk into the microwave.

Of course Santana loves herself. She's fucking awesome, how can she not love herself? Okay, she won't be winning The Nicest Person In The World Award anytime soon, but she doesn't hate herself. She's not depressed; she doesn't want to kill herself or anything drastic like that.

Sure, the whole Father leaving her then Spencer leaving her might have possibly had a few damaging effects, in that she's not entirely convinced she deserves the _happy ever after_, or whatever it is Rachel's always banging on about, and that she has a horrendously difficult time trusting anyone.

She just doesn't get what someone like Brittany could possibly see in someone like her. She can be rude, grumpy, impatient and impolite, she sometimes reverts to the mental function of a toddler or Finn Hudson when she doesn't get her way, she is not a morning person, she can get insanely jealous and act completely irrationally, as proved by her delightful performance earlier.

Okay, so maybe she's not her own biggest fan, but anyway.

The microwave pings and she takes out the mug of milk, spooning some cocoa powder into it and dumping some marshmallows on top, ignoring the ridiculous way she now associates hot chocolate with Brittany, thanks to their endless Starbucks dates and Brittany's cat's fabulous secret hot chocolate recipe or whatever she'd called it.

When she gets back to her bedroom, the first thing Santana does is locate her phone from the depths of her bag. There's two texts, one from Kurt and one from Quinn.

_What did you do?_

Well Kurt's certainly to the point.

_What the hell are you talking about Princess?_

While she's waiting for Kurt's reply, she opens Quinn's text. Deciphering the drunken words is far too much effort for her tired brain, and once she translates that Quinn's staying with Rachel she dumps her phone onto the bed next to her.

Taking a gulp of her hot chocolate – it's not as good as Brittany's – Santana wonders if she should call her or not.

It might be a bit stalkery, but she wants to know if Brittany got home safe. Plus, she'd like some clarification on Brittany's last words to her.

_I'll be waiting_, like can you get anymore fucking vague than that? An estimate of how long Brittany would wait would have been nice.

She might also just really want Brittany's voice to be the last thing she hears before she falls asleep, but regardless.

She's having difficulty keeping her eyes open, and Kurt's taking fucking ages to reply, so she decides to just go to bed. Draining her hot chocolate, she snuggles down underneath her covers, switching her light off and shutting her eyes.

She keeps Brittany's hoodie on, even though it'll probably get too hot, cause in her half-asleep state, with Brittany's scent floating off the hoodie, she can almost pretend she's not alone in her bed.

Wrapping her arms around herself, it's almost like Brittany's there holding her.

/

Santana wakes up with a jolt, realizing she must have fallen asleep at some point, and when she peers over Quinn's still sleeping body, the sight of LAX comes into view.

Glancing at her watch, she sees it's 7.40pm, and despite her little nap she's still exhausted. Once they've gotten off the plane and through customs and to their hotel, Santana plans on passing the hell out on her bed, and not waking up for a good eight hours.

The plane rolls to a stop in the terminal, and Quinn mutters something unintelligible as she wakes up, sleepily blinking around.

"Are we here?"

"No, had to make an emergency landing in Denver, they found snakes in the hold of the plane."

The punch she receives on her arm for that little comment might hurt like a bitch, but it's totally worth it to see the panicked, half-asleep look on Quinn's face.

By the time they get to their hotel room, it's gone 9pm, and all Santana wants to do is go to bed, but Quinn is whining about being hungry, and despite Santana's suggestions of going to the vending machine at the end of the corridor, Quinn drags her down to the hotel bar, ordering a sandwich and fries.

Santana's not even hungry, so she just watches Quinn chew, and tries not to faceplant onto the table, cause seriously, she is that fucking tired. Her phone buzzes, and there's a brief flash of hope that it could be Brittany, quickly squashed when she discovers it's Adam calling her.

She barely manages to get a _sup Dr Who_ out before he's going on about an animation convention in Boston at the weekend that he wants to go to, cause apparently Bryan Ryan is hosting it, and _he's a pioneer in stop motion, Santana!_ She happily agrees once Adam agrees to organize the transport and accommodation himself, and just after she hangs up, she remembers that Sam is part of the animation department.

Sam lives with Brittany.

Sam will not be in New York at the weekend.

The weekend including Friday evening.

When Santana has a date with Brittany.

If Brittany still wants to even go on this date, that is.

Well this is certainly one way to make sure Santana's wide awake now.

/

The following afternoon, Santana and Quinn go for lunch with Mercedes.

Apparently at the last show of her tour in Las Vegas, a particularly eager fan had aggressively tried to propose marriage, so Mercedes' bodyguard Shannon Beiste is dubious about letting Mercedes out of her sight.

Because Quinn poses_ such_ a threat, Santana thinks, remembering the hilarious sight that had met her when she got out the shower this morning, of Quinn watching cartoons in her luminous green onesie while stuffing cereal into her mouth. Straight from the box. With her hands.

Thankfully, Mercedes manages to convince Beiste that they'll be fine at the little café a few blocks from her apartment, and Santana feels safe enough to leap out of her seat and engulf Mercedes in a hug once she's arrived at the café.

They each order a burger, Mercedes announcing that now she's off tour she can eat whatever the hell she wants, and Santana and Mercedes get an enormous basket of fries to share, Quinn choosing to get potato wedges instead. Quinn somehow manages to look hungrily down her nose when the waitress places Santana's bacon covered burger down in front of her ten minutes later, and Santana grins evilly in her direction.

"Miss bacon, do you Quinnie? Shame your vegan girlfriend has you on such a tight leash, huh?"

Mercedes giggles, making a whipping noise, and Quinn glares at both of them. "I hate you both," she picks up her own vegetarian burger. "And no, I do not miss meat at all." Santana snorts. Quinn rolls her eyes. "Enjoy your lump of dead animal covered with artificial condiments. Please leave me your black Louboutins in your will when you die of heart failure."

Quinn gives her a final snooty look and tucks into her burger. How polite.

"Goddamn I missed you, girl." Mercedes laughs, and Santana wipes the offended look off her face and steals one of Quinn's potato wedges in retaliation.

She ignores Quinn huffing about having enough fries to feed a few Third World countries for a month, and turns to Mercedes, demanding to know all about the tour.

/

The layout of the café, and the placing of the table they're at, means that Santana has to turn a corner after coming out of the restroom to get back to Quinn and Mercedes. She hadn't actually needed to pee, just wanted to check her hair, and she stops at the condiment island to pick up some ketchup when Quinn's voice floats around the corner.

"I don't know, she's just been acting… Different. Not bad different, but I think there's something going on that she's not telling me."

Santana pauses, sachet of tomato sauce in her hand mid-air. Surely they aren't dumb enough to talk about her when they think she's just gone to the toilet…

"Q, seriously, what would Santana not tell you?"

Clearly she's underestimated her friends' stupidity. Glancing around to make sure no one's looking at her like she's a complete weirdo for lurking by the condiment island, she leans against it and continues eavesdropping.

"I know I sound ridiculously suspicious, I can't explain it, I just have this feeling that she's hiding something from me."

_I am. _Apparently Quinn's a bit more perceptive that she gave her credit for. Dammit.

"Like what?" Mercedes asks, in the most disbelieving voice, like it's an insane thought Santana would hide anything from them. Although considering how open she is, or was, about her endless string of hook ups, Mercedes has a point.

"I think she's seeing someone." Quinn says after a pause.

_Working on it, _Santana thinks while picking up a sachet of barbeque sauce. Quinn's potato wedges will taste good with this.

Mercedes' loud laugh reaches Santana's ears. "Are you crazy? Santana? With a girlfriend?"

How charming.

"Believe me, I know how insane it sounds, but… She hasn't been bringing home random girls for a few months now, she hasn't been going out, getting drunk and stumbling back home at 9am the next morning, and she's been suspiciously absent from the apartment quite a few nights when I didn't think she had plans."

Santana had been wondering if Quinn would pick up on that. She starts listing a bunch of suitable excuses in her head for if Quinn asks. Jogging in Central Park's always a good one, or she can say she's joined a gym. And if she can convince Puck or Kurt to lie for her she can claim to have been with them.

Or she could just tell the half-truth, say she's just hanging out with Brittany, even if "hanging out" doesn't involve clothes or them leaving Brittany's apartment.

Mercedes snorts, breaking her out of her thoughts. "That doesn't really mean anything Quinn. She does have friends that aren't you or the Diva Twins."

There's a thud, and Santana can just imagine Quinn placing her hands on the table and leaning forward dramatically. "I heard her giggling on the phone the other day. _Giggling_." Oh Jesus Christ. "And I don't mean giggling as in I'm making fun of that high pitched laugh she has, I mean actual giggling Cedes!"

"So you think that means she's secretly dating someone?" Santana can hear the amusement in Mercedes' voice, and Santana has to bite back a laugh – or a _giggle_ – as well. Clearly Quinn's more suspicious that she'd originally thought, and she still doesn't think she's ready to tell her everything, so her and Brittany – if there's still a _her and Brittany_ at all – will have to be more careful.

"I don't know, I mean, I've noticed this change in her over the past few months. It's really, really subtle, I don't think I would have noticed if I didn't know her so well, but she almost seems happier. She wasn't unhappy as such before, just… I don't know how to explain it, just everything points to something having changed in her life, and the most obvious one would be she's seeing somebody."

Well being happier is probably a usual side effect when someone who's the living embodiment of sunshine appears in your life. Like, even if her and Brittany genuinely were just friends, the blonde is perpetually cheerful and happy, and it's contagious. Frighteningly so.

"Okay, let's say she is secretly dating someone. Why would she hide it from you? And who would it even be?"

"That's what I can't figure out. Maybe she thinks I wouldn't approve? As for the who, I still think something's going on with her and Brittany."

Santana snorts quietly. Hit the nail on the head there, Quinnie.

"Wait, who's Brittany?" Mercedes asks, sounding like she's talking with her mouth full. Ladylike.

"One of the photographers we hired a while ago."

There's a pause where Mercedes presumably finishes chewing. "The blonde one that Santana says you nearly spray the studio whenever you talk about her?"

Santana sniggers at the groan Quinn lets out.

"I am going to kill her. But yes, that's her."

"You don't think Santana's dumb enough to sleep with one of her employees, do you?"

"Well her and Brittany are awfully close. I've never really seen Santana make friends with someone so quickly when she doesn't have the intention of sleeping with them. Plus I'm pretty sure Brittany has a thing for Santana."

Santana seethes at that. They're talking about her like she isn't right here, for Christ's sake!

"Okay, okay, Quinn," Thank God for Mercedes, since Santana's quite tempted to accidentally dump the entire sachet of ketchup over Quinn's pretty blonde head. "Look you don't even have any proof, do you?" There's a pause where Santana assumes Quinn crosses her arms grumpily and shakes her head. "So maybe she is dating someone, maybe she isn't, if she is, then she's probably got a good reason for not telling you. So just cool the private investigator crap, okay?"

Quinn doesn't reply, and Santana takes that as her cue to round the corner, sitting back down next to Mercedes and facing Quinn.

"Ladies." She says in way of greeting, eyeing Quinn subtly while she takes a gulp of her drink.

"Oh, Santana, did you know David Martinez is speaking at the convention tomorrow?" Quinn announces excitedly, picking up the convention's schedule and thrusting it across the table.

"Hold up, really?" Santana's brain derails from Detective Fabray immediately, and grabs at the leaflet. "Oh my God!" She squeaks in excitement when she sees _David Martinez – print advertising_ printed in neat letters.

Just one of her favorite non-dead designers in the same building as her, no big deal, Santana's totally not freaking out.

"Yeah. He's on at 4pm in the West Room apparently." Quinn supplies, and Santana reaches out to grab a handful of fries, stuffing them into her mouth while she flicks through the rest of the leaflet.

"What about us?" She mumbles through a mouthful of fries. She figures it might help if she knows where she's going for her slot.

"We're on the Tuesday. You're 2pm in the West Room and I'm 1pm in the East Room. David is on tomorrow, and I want to go to see Cassie July as well, she's on at 2pm"

"Who the hell is Cassie July?" Santana asks distractedly, picking up a lettuce leaf and chewing on it as she scans the rest of the guest list. Oh good, she's on after Sunshine Corazon, she'll gladly upstage that little bitch.

There's a pause where Santana doesn't even have to look up to know Quinn's giving her a horrified look, so Santana assumes Cassie July is some edgy, hipster photographer that Quinn's obsessed with and she's never heard of.

"Wait, Cassie July as in Cassandra July as in Crazy July?" Mercedes asks, sounding confused.

Quinn and Santana stare at her blankly.

"The biggest train wreck in Broadway history… Come on, even I've heard of her, Rachel's honestly never raved about her?"

Quinn and Santana continue to stare blankly.

Mercedes huffs.

"You're both _so_ uncultured."

/

"Hey." Santana's standing by a water fountain, waiting for Quinn to get back with coffees before they go to watch David Martinez's talk, when her gazing off into space is interrupted by a soft female voice to her left. "You're Santana Lopez, right?"

Santana turns to look at the girl, a brunette a few inches taller than her, with a clipboard tucked under one arm and the other outstretched towards Santana. Her hair's up in a ponytail, and she's wearing glasses, and she's kinda hot, in a nerdy, sexy-librarian way.

Taking the proffered hand and shaking it, Santana smiles politely at her. "In the flesh. And you are?"

"I'm Alex. I'm David Martinez's assistant. I don't know if this would be considering fraternizing with the enemy, but I am a huge, huge fan of your work." As she's retracting her hand, Alex brushes her fingertips across Santana's palm, and Santana already has a vague idea of where this might be heading.

"Well I'm glad I'm doing something right." Santana replies awkwardly, feeling a little uncomfortable under the not-blue-enough eyes staring at her lustfully.

"This, uh, might be a little forward of me, but if you're not busy tonight," Alex smirks suggestively and looks up through her eyelashes at Santana, and oh this girl is good. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab a drink or two. I'd uh, really like to get to know the genius behind Hollidaze better."

For a second, Santana considers it. Even if Alex _is_ just intending it to be drinks, although the way her eyes are roaming all over Santana's body is hinting at a resounding no to _just drinks_, Santana would have no problem getting into her pants. Alcohol, "accidental" brushes of the fingers, and flirtatious smirks and Santana has had many a supposedly straight girl eating out the palm of her hand.

Eating other things as well, but anyway.

But then she remembers Brittany. A woman who's not even her damn girlfriend, but Santana can't bear the thought of touching anyone else or letting them touch her, and the thought of anyone that's not her with their hands all over Brittany's perfect body makes her shudder involuntarily.

Alex raises an eyebrow while waiting for a response, and Santana sighs. "Look, Alex, you seem nice and all, but there's-"

"Someone else?" Alex finishes with a half-hearted smile. Pretty much.

"Sorry." Santana shrugs, smiling gently, hoping Alex isn't going to go all psycho and start hitting her with the clipboard.

"I'll get over it," Alex says with a wink. "She's a lucky girl, whoever she is."

Santana smiles, blonde hair and blue eyes popping into her mind. "I think I'm the lucky one actually."

_You're such a cliché, Santana._

"It was nice meeting you Miss Lopez." Alex says with another smile, before twirling around and wandering off.

There's a cough, and Santana turns around to see Quinn arching an eyebrow at her. Santana snatches one of the cups off of her, and ignores the way Quinn exaggeratedly shifts her gaze from Alex's retreating figure to Santana.

"She was hot."

"Thought you were a one-hobbit woman now?" Santana shoots back, taking a sip of her coffee and avoiding Quinn's inquisitive stare by looking over at the clamour of fans surrounding Cassie July, who according to Google is _not_ Broadway Cassandra July, but they _are_ distantly related. Second cousins thrice removed, or something like that.

"Thought you would've been all up on that, or whatever your ridiculous phrase is."

Santana snorts. "First off, you sound like a complete tool trying to impersonate me, and second of all, she wasn't my type."

Checking her phone and seeing it's nearly 4pm, she starts walking towards the west room to drool over David Martinez, hoping Quinn will drop it.

She doesn't, obviously.

"She was female and willing, what other type do you have?"

Santana's beginning to get annoyed, and pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, trying to tame down the urge to go all Crazy July on Quinn.

"You know, I really don't appreciate these constant implications that I'm easy Fabray. If you have something to say, just say it and get it over with."

"I'm not calling you easy Santana, although I have seen you sleep with people you've met 30 minutes prior, I was just wondering why you wouldn't say yes to her."

"Maybe I'm just not in the mood?" Santana huffs back, internally breaking out into a dance when she spies two seats at the very front of the room, and making a beeline for them.

Apparently Quinn gets the message, and just gives Santana a suspicious look, thankfully shutting up about it.

/

One of Quinn's talents – although Santana is dubious about calling it a talent – is that she can fall asleep pretty much anywhere, at anytime, in any position. Santana is the exact opposite. 90 per cent of the time it's gotta be a bed or a sofa for her, unless there's alcohol involved, and even then she's slept it a few questionable places.

So of course, when Santana actually wants Quinn to stay awake on the flight back to New York to distract her from thinking about Brittany, just after the seatbelt signs turn off, Santana glances round to see Quinn curled up in her seat, fast asleep.

Bitch is hogging the window seat, as well.

A few hours, a magazine, the entirety of her _sleepy time_ playlist that didn't work at all, Santana is bored. Quinn is still asleep, and Santana has pretty much exhausted all her options of distracting herself.

She leans back in her seat with a huff, trying not to let her mind drift to Brittany. It hasn't even been a week, but she misses her so much.

Misses cuddling with her, the way Brittany's arms wrap tightly around her and make her feel warm and safe, and how comfy she is to use as a pillow, and how whenever Santana would leave after a snuggle session, Brittany's scent would cling to her own clothes.

Misses talking about nothing with her, Brittany's endless supply of ridiculous jokes and anecdotes about Lord Tubbington can make her laugh for hours.

Misses kissing her, how Brittany's lips brushing against hers make her feel loved, how their mouths fits together perfectly, how fucking good Brittany tastes.

She misses the way Brittany looks at her. Like she's the most important person in the world, like she's the most interesting person she's even seen, like she's the most beautiful woman on the planet.

Santana groans. This isn't helping.

There's no distractions, no irritating baby screeching on this flight, she finished her book somewhere over Colorado, Quinn's still dead to the world, and she's stuck on a level of Angry Birds, so she can't stop herself from thinking about Brittany.

Resigning herself to daydreaming and pining over Brittany like a lovesick teenager, Santana roots around for her headphones, stuffs them in her ears, and puts on her This Is Not A Romantic Playlist playlist, and closes her eyes, finally drifting off to sleep and dreaming about blonde hair and blue eyes.

/

Thursday passes without Santana seeing any sign of Brittany.

However that may be due to the fact Brittany had called in sick, Sam informing them she'd been up half the night coughing loudly, and had felt like crap that morning, barely able to get out of bed.

Santana may or may not have had a mild heart attack at the thought of the blonde being sick, and may or may not have been tempted to run over to Brittany's on her lunch break, armed with Disney movies, Starbucks and soup from the little café a few blocks from the studio.

But Santana's not going to confirm that.

She'd been holed up in the meeting room for most of the morning with Quinn and April Rhodes, who thankfully hadn't turned up completely smashed, but Santana's pretty sure she's managed to slip something into the glass of "lemonade" sitting innocently in front of her, if the slurring of her voice is anything to go by.

The rest of the afternoon she'd basically been glued to Tina's side as the other woman had updated her on what she'd missed while in LA.

Friday morning, Santana and Quinn arrive at the studio just before 9am, Quinn bitching about the guy who'd "accidentally" groped her on the subway, and Santana not paying the slightest bit of attention. It's raining outside, and Santana takes down her rainbow colored umbrella – birthday present from Puck – and shakes the water off in Quinn's direction, amused by the volley of curses that get thrown her way.

A muffled laugh reaches her ears over Quinn's colorful description of how she's going to murder Santana in her sleep, and Santana glances towards the front door to see Brittany standing there.

Her blonde hair is covered by a light blue beanie, a matching scarf wrapped around her neck, and Santana has no idea what it is, if it's the way the sunlight filtering through the clouds hits her just right, if it's the adoring way bright blue eyes are staring at her, or if it's just the fact this is the first time she's seen her in nearly a week, whatever it is, the sight of Brittany takes her breath away.

She knew she missed Brittany, but God she hadn't realized how much.

She'd be content to just stand here the rest of the morning and drink Brittany's appearance in, but their little staring match unfortunately gets interrupted when Quinn appears next to Santana, placing a wet floor sign down, grumbling loudly about the weather, before glaring at Santana and turning her attention to Brittany, dragging her away as she starts chattering a mile a minute about something Cassie July had talked about on Tuesday.

Shamelessly letting her eyes drop to Brittany's ass as the two blondes walk towards the elevator, Santana nearly trips over her own feet as she's walking towards Kitty's desk when Brittany winks at her just before the doors completely close.

Santana had been expecting awkward eye contact, and rushed hellos when she next saw Brittany, but this is infinitely preferable.

It's good to know she hasn't completely messed things up.

/

Tina and Santana spend almost the entire morning organizing their pitch for April Rhodes on Monday, and when 12pm rolls around, Santana decides to pop across the road to Starbucks on her own, since Quinn has vanished off with Rachel on some disgusting lunch date.

She grabs her coat, and shrugs it on, before opening her office door, and promptly colliding with someone about to walk in.

She stumbles backwards, smacking her wrist off the side of the door, and nearly falls over. An arm shoots around her waist, catching her and clinging tightly so she doesn't land on the floor, and Santana lifts her eyes to shout at whoever was about to invite themselves into her office without knocking, but the words get caught in her throat.

"Sorry," Brittany squeaks, and Santana swallows the retort, instead murmuring that it's okay, staring into blue eyes.

Brittany apparently realizes that they're standing extremely close, in the doorway to Santana's office, and her arms are around Santana's waist, and clears her throat, averting her eyes and stepping away from Santana.

She's still close enough to make Santana's head spin, but she's kind of used to that side effect of Brittany being all up in her personal space now.

"Uh, hey." She says with a chuckle, nervously running a hand through her hair, and God she's just so cute, Santana has a hard time not pulling the blonde into her office, shutting the door, and showing Brittany just how much she missed her.

"Hey," Santana replies, smiling at the flustered expression on Brittany's face. "Uh, are you busy? I was just about to go to Starbucks, if you wanted to join? Only if you wanted to though, obviously."

_Stop talking Santana._

"I can't actually," Santana heart sinks, but Brittany looks genuinely apologetic. "I said I'd have lunch with Unique, but she's not finished yet, so I thought I'd come see how you were. How was LA?"

Brittany looks up at her with a cute expression, and Santana blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Are you still free tonight?"

Smooth.

"What?" Brittany's eyebrows furrow and she looks confused.

"Um, for the date. That I asked you on last week," Santana swallows awkwardly, Brittany's piercing gaze not helping her nerves. "If you don't want to go anymore, uh, that's fine, I was just wondering-"

Brittany cuts her off. "Yes."

"What?"

Brittany giggles at the presumably idiotic look on Santana's face from where she's now casually leaning against the doorframe.

"Yes, I'm still free, and yes I'll still go on that date with you." She crosses her arms, the motion pushing her boobs upwards slightly, and okay usually the boob leering comes after the date, but Santana is having a difficult time keeping her eyes up.

"Really?" Santana says, trying to keep her smile in sane territory.

Brittany nods, smiling brightly and lighting up Santana's office. Something beeps, and Brittany pouts slightly before pulling her phone out of her pocket and glancing at the screen.

"Okay, I have to go now, but I'll see you later," Brittany looks up questioningly, and Santana nods. "You can tell me all about LA then." The blonde adds on, before spinning round and heading out of the door.

"Britt, I-" Santana stutters, stepping forward and leaning out of her office. Brittany turns round, looking inquisitively at her. Santana gulps. "We kinda have a lot to talk about, so-"

She trails off nervously, hoping she hasn't just blown her chances again. It's true though, they do need to talk. Santana's had time to think, like Brittany wanted, and she's pretty sure the blonde will enjoy the outcome of said thinking.

"Okay." She smiles, and Santana really wants to kiss her right now.

"By the way," Brittany adds on quietly, ducking her head shyly. "I missed you."

Santana feels warmth flood her body, and she can't stop the happy smile from taking over her face.

"I missed you too."

/

When Santana arrives at Brittany's apartment later around 4pm, it's colder than it was when she left her own, but thankfully it hasn't started raining. Or snowing, or hailing, or thunderstorming or something. That might kinda ruin their date. The elevator's out of order, so Santana takes the stairs two floors up, and walks down the hallway to Number 12.

She's standing outside of Brittany's door when the nerves really hit her. This is kind of the make or break date. No pressure or anything. She takes a deep breath and knocks on the painted blue wood of the door.

She hears a faint clang from inside, followed by a thud, and Santana raises her eyebrow, wondering what on Earth is going on in there. Brittany's voice floats through the door, yelling just a minute, before footsteps are padding towards the door.

"Hey!" Brittany says with a smile when the door flings open.

"Uh," Santana pauses, her eyes raking over the blonde's body. She's wearing the same top Santana saw her in earlier that day, a blue and white striped tshirt, and gray sweatpants. Her wet hair is up in a messy bun and she doesn't have any make up on.

She still looks fucking gorgeous, obviously, and Santana momentarily drifts off into a fantasy of just lounging around on a lazy Sunday with Brittany like this, cuddling, baking, failing at baking so ordering takeout, more cuddling… It sounds pretty fucking perfect.

"I'm so sorry I'm walking late, my Mom called, and then Lord Tubbington wanted to talk, and once you get him going on the current trends in astrology you just can't shut him up." Brittany babbles quickly, spinning away from the door and scampering towards her bedroom.

Santana blinks, chooses to not comment on the Lord Tubbington part of Brittany's sentence, and steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

"Uh, don't worry about it." Santana calls, shoving her hands in her pockets and standing awkwardly in the middle of Brittany's apartment. She's not sure what to do. Are they comfortable enough with each other for her just to make herself at home? She can't exactly follow Brittany into the bedroom, since judging from the pair of jeans she just saw being flung across the room through the open door, Brittany's half naked in there.

And well, Santana's pretty sure the sex comes at the end of the date. If it goes well. Which it will. Hopefully. She just has to not be a moron. Which is easier said than done unfortunately.

"Do you want anything to drink? Eat?" Brittany's voice sounds through to Santana. "The kitchen's kind of a mess, sorry, Sam made pancakes this morning before he left and forgot to clean up. I'm not sure if he even tried to use a pan."

Santana casts a glance over to the kitchen and muffles a snort, cause wow she thought _she_ was a shit cook.

"No thanks, I'm good Britt. Can we stop and get coffee on the way though? It's freezing cold outside." It fucking is as well, Santana spent five minutes before leaving deliberating if she should introduce Brittany to her extensive bobble hat collection, before deciding that's more fifth date material.

Instead, Santana's dressed in tight black jeans, black and white Chucks, and Brittany's white hoodie with a leather jacket over the top. While getting dressed she could almost hear Kurt's voice in her ear yapping about brightening up her wardrobe, so she'd thrown on a bright red scarf as well.

Unwrapping said scarf from around her neck since the apartment is roasting, Santana sits down on the sofa and waits for Brittany to reappear. The sound of a hairdryer blasting on makes her think the blonde might be a few minutes, so she quickly hunts through the pile of books on the coffee table for something to amuse herself with.

She's halfway through Fox In Socks when Brittany appears. Her hair is looking particularly soft and fluffy, and Santana refrains from leaping across the room to touch it, since hello, weird. Brittany catches sight of the Dr Seuss book and laughs, coming to a stop in front of her and plucking it out of her hands.

"This one is my favorite." Brittany announces, before rattling off the entire final tongue twister about the beetle paddle battle, word for word.

"Impressive." Santana comments, trying not to make a dirty joke about Brittany obviously being good with her tongue, but there's a smirk on the blonde's face that implies maybe she's not the only one thinking it.

Anyway, they're supposed to be going to the park to feed the ducks, not sit around and quote Dr Seuss, and yes, Santana _is_ a grown woman thank you very much.

/

Brittany figures out what the date is going to entail the moment Santana drags her into an open convenience store on the walk towards the park, heading towards the bakery section and picking up a huge loaf of bread.

So much for surprise.

Although, surprise or not, Brittany looks incredibly fucking happy, and Santana's pretty sure if the blonde weren't holding the two cups of coffee Santana's just bought them at the café across the street, she'd be flinging her arms around Santana's neck.

When they reach Central Park, Brittany's almost bouncing in excitement as Santana leads the way, and it's so fucking cute Santana can't help the ridiculously huge grin that spreads across her face while she watches Brittany's happy expression.

They just walk in silence along the path for a few more minutes, occasionally smiling at each other or taking a sip of their coffee, and normally Santana would be nervously rambling just to fill the undoubtedly awkward silence, but with Brittany, it's nice, and comfortable.

It's just before 5pm, so it's just getting dark out, the sun still peeking over the buildings to the west of the city, and the wind has picked up slightly, and as Santana catches Brittany shiver slightly out the corner of her eye, she wishes she could just wrap her arms around her and cuddle her until she's warm.

Santana's not entirely sure if she's allowed to take Brittany's hand, but before she can decide, the pond comes into view, and Brittany leaps about ten feet in the air at the sight of a singular duck sitting beside a bench at the edge of the path.

Whirling round, Brittany eyes the loaf of bread tucked under Santana's arm, and Santana happily hands it over with a laugh.

The duck looks at Brittany when she steps closer to it, tearing off a tiny piece of bread and throwing it towards it. The ducks quacks, before waddling over to the bit of bread and picking it up with its beak. Santana continues to stand in the middle of the path, smiling stupidly as Brittany crouches down, enticing the duck with pieces of bread until it plucks a piece straight out of her hand.

"What are you, the animal whisperer or something?" Santana laughs, pulling her phone out of her pocket and walking round until she can see Brittany, slowly so she doesn't terrify the duck.

"Somebody's jealous." Brittany addresses the duck, and Santana laughs again, opening the camera app and taking a photo of Brittany and the duck. Brittany keeps cooing and chattering to the duck, beaming when it quacks quietly and keeps taking the bread from her hand. Considering what she knows about Lord Tubbington, maybe Brittany's just one of those people that even animals love.

She certainly doesn't blame them.

/

Once Brittany's new bestie waddles off towards the pond, and Santana now has more photos on her phone of a damn duck than she does of Quinn and Kurt combined – that's including those hilarious drunken ones of Kurt making out with a guy who bears a scary resemblance to Mr Schue, which she uses for blackmail purposes, despite his protests and grumbles of _beer goggles_ – Brittany stands up, and Christ has she been trying to fatten up the duck or something? Half the loaf is missing.

They both sit down on the bench, Santana draining the remains of her coffee and tossing it into the trashcan. Brittany sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs are brushing, and Santana tries to ignore the electric current sparking between them.

"Thank you." Brittany says quietly, and when Santana turns her head, her breath gets caught in her throat at the reverent way Brittany's looking at her. Bright blue eyes gazing into her own, a light red flush from the cold air painting her cheeks and her pink lips curved up into a soft smile.

"You're welcome." She eventually smiles back, the double meaning of what Brittany's thanking her for not lost on either of them.

Brittany continues looking at her affectionately, and when Santana licks her lips absent-mindedly, her eyes drop down to watch. It sends a rush of heat through Santana's body, and okay, Brittany's obviously still wants her, but they really should talk and get all the everything out of the way first.

Hey look at her; she's growing as a person, thinking with her head and not her vagina. Quinn would be so proud.

Ducking her head, Santana coughs, clearing her throat and standing up, picking up the half finished loaf of bread and tentatively holding out her other hand to Brittany. "Come on. Thought you didn't like playing favorites, there's more than one duck in the pond for you to charm."

Brittany smiles, exhaling a quiet laugh, and reaches up to take Santana's hand, instantly tangling their fingers together and standing up.

Santana lets out a quiet breath, smiling like an idiot at Brittany and squeezing her fingers slightly, before turning towards the pond and walking towards it. Santana hands the bread to Brittany once they reach the edge of the pond, and Brittany happily starts feeding them again, the ducks flocking towards them when they realize there's the promise of food.

Santana didn't realize quite how many ducks there would be, and is mildly worried when like a million of them leap out of the pond and accumulate around their feet, quacking loudly and staring up at Brittany. They're kind of cute, Santana has to admit, in a fluffy bird way, and her heart practically melts when Brittany bends down and starts feeding the ducks straight from her hands again.

About ten minutes, the rest of their bread supply minus two slices, and a few comments about Brittany being a duck hypnotist later, Brittany stands up again, wiping the crumbs off her hands. The ducks apparently realize there's no point lurking around if there's no more food from Brittany, and slowly waddle back into the pond, flapping their wings as they re-enter the water.

Brittany turns to face Santana, and hands her the two slices of bread. "You are allowed to feed them as well you know. They don't bite." She says, taking her phone out of her pocket to take a photo of a duck still sniffing around near them.

Santana smiles, ripping off a piece of bread and throwing it towards the duck having its photo taken. Another comfortable silence settles in around them as Santana feeds the duck, which gets joined by three more after a few minutes.

Once the first slice has been eaten, Santana glances at Brittany, and sees her staring back with an unreadable expression, her fingers playing with a lock of blonde hair flowing out from underneath the dark blue beanie.

"What?"

"I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Everything. You. Us. Last weekend."

Santana freezes. She's not sure why she's so stunned about Brittany bringing it up. It's kinda the point of this whole date. Santana just figured they'd be in Starbucks, or back at Brittany's, not in the cold in Central Park with a particularly loud duck quacking in the middle of the pond.

She didn't think it was going to be so soon. She also thought she'd be the one to bring it up.

"I'm not gonna pressure you into talking about anything, Santana. I said I'd wait." The blonde adds on softly, and Santana can feel blue eyes burning into the side of her head.

God, Brittany's just so selfless and amazing and perfect it makes Santana's head spin and her heart thump faster.

There's a silence while Santana tries to collect her thoughts, her heart rattling loudly in her ribcage as she thinks about what she needs to tell Brittany.

"Well um, just to warn you, I am shit at talking about my, uh, feelings, so I might not make the slightest bit of sense." Santana blurts out nervously, glad it makes Brittany smile.

She fiddles with the remaining piece of bread nervously, ripping it in half and handing one of the pieces to Brittany, keeping her eyes staring straight ahead while she tries to figure out how to articulate what she's feeling.

"I just don't understand." Santana sighs eventually, lobbing a bit of bread towards the pond and watching it bounce off a duck's head, before being scooped up by the neighboring duck.

"U'erstan' wha'?" Brittany has apparently decided to eat the remaining slice of bread, and speaks with her mouth full, her words coming out slightly muffled. Like everything else the blonde does, it still manages to be cute.

"How someone like me got lucky enough to find someone like you." Santana replies, and she hears Brittany sigh quietly next to her. A few long moments pass where Brittany doesn't say anything, just tosses a few more bits of bread towards the ducks bobbing around in the water.

"You've said that quite a few times now," Brittany eventually speaks, and Santana turns her head to look at the blonde's profile. She get so caught up staring in wonderment at how beautiful Brittany looks in the soft orange rays of the New York evening that she forgets if she's supposed to reply or not, but then Brittany's talking again, turning her own head to meet Santana's gaze. "It makes me sad, that you don't see how wonderful you are."

Santana gulps, her heart beginning to beat a bit faster, like it does every time Brittany calls her wonderful, or amazing, or gorgeous, or some appreciative word.

Brittany shuffles her feet nervously, before flinging the last bit of bread into the pond, and turning to fully face Santana.

"When you fall in love with someone, you fall in love with everything about them. Their eyes and their lips, the way they laugh or think, their voice in the morning, the way they look when they're sleeping, their endless supply of sarcasm," She drops her eyes and smirks up at Santana through her lashes at that one. "Their dreams, their past and their future, even their flaws. Their scars, jealousy, immaturity, impatience, everything they don't like about themselves… It's just more of them to love." She finishes with a shrug.

Santana blinks at her, speechless.

She thinks back to when she first met Brittany, walked smack bang into her at Starbucks, and then the subsequent weeks of arguing with herself, and denying that she had a crush on the blonde, which then turned into denial of liking the blonde, followed by the denial that she was falling in love with Brittany.

She's not entirely sure why she bothered lying to herself. She didn't stand a chance, really.

"Jesus, Brittany," Santana eventually says, breathing out a laugh just after. "Way to prove my point about being so amazing."

"Well I'm sort of an all or nothing kinda girl," Brittany smiles at her. "I either fall in love with a person as a whole, or I don't fall in love with them at all."

She looks meaningfully at Santana, her lips tugged up into a soft smile, and Santana ducks her head and tries to hide her own grin.

There's a quiet pause where Santana tries to get rid of her blushing and ridiculous butterflies, not helped by the fact she can still feel Brittany's gaze on her. There's a quiet quacking, and they both look up and watch a couple of ducks drift by on the pond's surface.

"I am too, you know," Santana says, ignoring the nerves building up in her stomach next to the butterflies organizing a stampede. Brittany turns to look at her questioningly, and Santana takes a deep breath, keep her gaze locked on blue eyes. "Falling in love with you."

Brittany just blinks at her for a second, before her entire face lights up, her eyes brimming with adoration and a flush painting her face, the tips of her ears turning red as well. Her reaction causes Santana's stomach to flutter, her entire body to flush with a gentle warmth, and her lips to curve up into a shy smile.

"I never expected it to happen, Britt," Santana continues, pausing to swallow, hopefully getting rid of the nervous waver in her voice. "I never planned on meeting you, or on letting you in, getting this attached to you, but…" Santana trails off, breath catching in her throat as she momentarily gets lost in the way blue eyes are looking affectionately at her.

"I never really thought I would fall in love with anyone again, after-" She pauses again, feeling her chest tighten.

Jesus, if she could go back to that first day at Cheerios tryouts when she looked up from tying her shoe to see green eyes peering down at her, instead of responding to Spencer's question of could she borrow a hair tie, Santana would just walk in the opposite direction.

She's got to get over it someday.

Maybe, Santana thinks as she looks at the gorgeous blonde, who's smiling softly back at her like she's the greatest person in the world, someday can start today.

"After Spencer broke up with me." Santana finishes, and Brittany looks confused for a second before recognition of the name washes over her face.

Santana gulps, twisting nervously at her fingers in front of her. Despite the fact they're in the middle of Central Park, with ducks loudly quacking to her left, and a homeless man sleeping, possibly dead, on the bench up by the path, this is one of the most intimate conversations Santana's ever had.

"And I definitely never thought I'd feel this much for anyone again, but then you happened."

Brittany's smiling at her still, and Santana giggles as the blonde sweeps her arm across her chest and bends over in a mock bow, a cocky smirk on her face.

"Yeah, exactly. I mean, this little speech probably won't be anywhere near yours, but all the stuff you told me at Holly's party, it sounded perfect. And I want it too, I want the coffee dates, the cuddling while watching terrible movies, the meeting each other's parents, the falling asleep and waking up with you, all of it. I want it too. And I want it with you. Only you."

Santana's about to continue on with her gooey romantic confession, when Brittany cuts her off, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Santana's shoulders and pulling her into a hug. She flounders for a second, before remembering Hugging 101 and circling her own arms around Brittany's waist, resting her cheek against Brittany's shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Brittany whispers, the warm breath blowing across her ear inducing a mild heart attack in Santana. Christ, it's only been a week, but _God_ she's missed the feeling of having Brittany's arms around her, the smell of her perfume, her warm body pressed against her, their heartbeats thudding in time with each others.

"Definitely." Santana replies, once she's regained the ability to speak. Brittany makes a happy squeaking noise, and tightens her arms around Santana. There's probably a silly grin on the blonde's face that Santana would like to see, but she's content to snuggle a bit further into Brittany, breathing in the scent of coconuts and revelling in the way strong arms are wrapped around her.

Eventually, Brittany pulls back slightly, letting her arms drop and worm their way under Santana's, until the blonde's arms are around her waist, hands clasped at the small of her back. Brittany tilts her head, smiling at Santana with a lovingly affectionate look, and Santana doesn't really have any other option but to smile back.

Just the way Brittany is looking at her is stealing Santana's breath, and the next words out of the blonde's mouth definitely leave her breathless.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Isn't the kissing supposed to come at the end of the date?" Santana says teasingly, completely contradicting herself by lifting her hands to cup Brittany's cheeks, and really, one of these days she's just going to steal the blonde's moisturizer, since every time she makes a mental note to ask what brand Brittany uses, she forgets as soon as Brittany does something completely insignificant, like look at her.

Brittany giggles. "Cause we've totally done everything by the book, haven't we?"

Well, that's all the reason Santana needs to lean forward and press her lips against Brittany's.

And well, if a thought about how the first time she's kissed Brittany in a week feels like _coming home_ passes through her mind, Santana's not going to deny that.

/

It's about 6.30pm when they leave Central Park.

Santana insists on walking Brittany home, and Brittany insists they go via Starbucks since she wants something to drink. Brittany buys them both – despite Santana's protests of _this is my date! _– white chocolate mochas, and they begin the 20 minute walk to Brittany's apartment.

Santana's chattering on about April Rhodes and the ideas she has for reusable packaging, when Brittany reaches out and takes her hand again. Obviously, Santana trips over her words, whipping her head round to stare at the blonde, but Brittany just takes a sip of her drink and smiles at Santana over the rim of her coffee cup, squeezing their fingers together lightly.

Trying not to grin like a maniac – that might scare Brittany off – Santana smiles back at her, and starts talking again, warmth blooming throughout her body from her chest at the adoring way Brittany's looking at her.

The nerves come back when they're about five minutes from Brittany's apartment.

Santana has no idea what's going to happen when they get there.

Is Brittany going to invite her up? Is Brittany going to say goodbye and then they have the awkward go-in-for-a-kiss-and-end-up-hugging? Is Brittany going to invite her to stay over?

Oh God.

"So," They've reached the steps outside Brittany's apartment quicker than Santana would have liked, and Brittany spins to face her fully, linking both their hands together.

"So," Santana parrots, smiling at Brittany's giggle.

"I had a great time today, San." Brittany says.

"Me too." Santana replies, and oh God, this is the part where one person usually goes in for a kiss, and the other goes in for a hug, and then it gets awkward.

She's trying to figure out how she can smoothly turn an aimed kiss into an intended hug when Brittany speaks.

"Do you want to come up?"

Santana blinks, unsure if she heard right.

"I don't really want to say goodbye to you just yet." Brittany elaborates, looking at Santana with a dreamy smile. "Plus, I've really missed cuddling you this week."

Santana doesn't think she's ever felt so happy in her life. Brittany's obviously missed her just as much, and the way Brittany's looking at her is making Santana's heart feel like it's about to implode.

She had hoped this date would go well, but she didn't think it could go this fantastically.

She nods eagerly, taking Brittany's outstretched hand and following her into the building

/

"Can I ask you a question?" Santana blinks, shifting her eyes from the TV to the nervous looking blonde at the other end of the couch. They're sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, although it's a pretty small one so it's not like they're miles apart, and Santana has her feet in Brittany's lap, the blonde's fingers playing with her fluffy pink – shut up – socks and the hem of her jeans.

There's a slightly apprehensive tone in her voice, making Santana think she might not like what Brittany's question is. Although she can have a wild guess as to what, or who, Brittany wants to know about and probably be correct.

"Sure." Santana says, leaning over to place her mug on the coffee table, before shuffling around until her back is resting against the arm of the sofa and she's facing Brittany.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I don't know if we're like, there, yet, but um, I was wondering what happened with you and Spencer?" Brittany questions, apparently getting bored of Santana's socks and just letting her hands rest across her ankles.

Santana sighs. She knew she'd have to explain this eventually.

"I don't really want to get into the details of it, no offence or anything," Santana starts off tentatively. "Well you know we met during senior year, and we started dating in secret. Well we were fine for like five months, and then I told her I loved her, and she freaked, like ran out the house and everything."

The sting comes back as she recalls the horrified way Spencer had stared at her. She'd felt so ashamed, and embarrassed, it was like Spencer couldn't get away from her quick enough.

She feels Brittany's fingers slip under her jeans and start to rub soothing circles on her skin, and she relaxes into the couch more. Looking up, Santana meets Brittany's sympathetic gaze and smiles.

"Then when I got to school the next day, someone had spray painted dyke over my locker." Brittany gasps slightly. Santana doesn't blame her. "Apparently Spencer had told the entire school that I was gay, and well, Lima, Ohio isn't exactly the most open-minded of places."

Santana snorts. Understatement of the century.

"She outed you to the entire school?" Brittany asks, looking horrified that anyone could stoop to that level. Santana nods, smiling sadly.

"Oh honey." The caring tone to Brittany's voice hits something in her chest, and she feels a wave of emotion wash over her. Blinking quickly to make sure she doesn't cry, Santana forces a smile and looks up at Brittany.

The look on her face hits her again, but Brittany continues before Santana can embarrass herself by dissolving into a sobbing emotional mess on the floor.

"I'm proud of you." Santana quirks an eyebrow in confusion "It can't have been easy, telling me about this. If it were, you would have told me earlier."

Santana just nods, still in disbelief that Brittany, this wonderful, understanding, caring, sweetheart of a person actually picked _her_.

Every time she thinks Brittany can't get more amazing, she's proved wrong.

"I don't blame you, you got hurt by people you cared about, so I can understand you having a difficult time trusting people. You're a very brave person."

Case in point, Santana being unaware there were people as innocent and as kind as Brittany in the world.

Santana gulps, a lump stuck in her throat, and fuck she is _not_ going to cry.

"Well I have a pretty good incentive." She eventually manages to get out, the waver to her voice betraying her cool.

Brittany looks confused, and Santana fights back a laugh.

"A good reason, to start being brave." Santana smiles meaningfully across the sofa, and her heart skips a beat at the delighted look on Brittany's face once realization washes over it.

"Well, you don't have to worry," Brittany eventually says through a grin. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

Santana ducks her head shyly, before glancing up through her eyelashes at Brittany. She doesn't say anything in reply; just gazes lovingly at her, hoping her sincere look gets the message of I adore you across.

Cause she just doesn't have the words to properly do Brittany Pierce justice.

/

They're still cuddling an hour later. Friends With Benefits has been switched for No Strings Attached, and they're arguing over who's hotter out of Mila Kunis or Natalie Portman. Brittany's also making comments about Justin Timberlake being hotter than Ashton Kutcher, but Santana doesn't really have any input to that.

"Are you blind Britt? You'd really pick Natalie over Mila? I would question your taste in women, but I happen to know it's pretty flawless."

Brittany laughs, the motion from her body moving Santana's head slightly where she's snugged into her.

After Santana had hauled herself off the sofa to go pee while Brittany changed DVDs, when she came back Brittany was sprawled out on her back, taking up the entire sofa. Santana didn't really have much choice but to clamber over Brittany until she was wedged between the back of the sofa and the blonde's warm body. Brittany's arm had immediately descended around her shoulder, encouraging her to cuddle closer, and Santana had happily obliged, resting her head on the area just between Brittany's shoulder and chest, so she could see the TV screen, and wrapping her arm around Brittany's waist.

Once Brittany had figured out how to work the remote and pressed play, she'd let her hand drift down towards Santana's, tangling their fingers together and resting them on her stomach. Then, at Natalie Portman's first appearance, Brittany had made a comment about how much hotter she apparently is than Mila Kunis, starting their little disagreement.

"I wouldn't say no to either of them," Brittany comments, and Santana glances up to see her wiggling her eyebrows down at her. Santana snorts, and snuggles in closer, wondering off-handedly if it would be unhygienic to never wash this top again, considering it's going to smell like Brittany due to how close they're pressed together.

Brittany makes a comment about having them both at the same time, which devolves into a heated discussion about Black Swan, then some more sleepy cuddling, and just as the movie's coming to a close, Santana's phone buzzes from its position on the coffee table.

"Ugh. Britt can you pass me that?" Santana mumbles into the crook of Brittany's neck. Apparently she's sleepier that she thought. Brittany makes a fantastic pillow and blanket combo though, so whatever.

Brittany reaches an arm out and picks up Santana's phone, unlocking it when Santana murmurs the passcode.

"It's from Quinn. She says she and Rachel had a fight and she wants you to come home."

Fucking cockblocking Fabray. Well, cuddle-blocking.

Santana heaves herself up onto her elbow, plucking the phone out of Brittany's hand and scanning the text.

_Just had a massive fight with Rachel, I don't know if I want to eat the entire contents of the ice cream drawer in the freezer or drink the entire contents of the alcohol cupboard, but I don't particularly want to do either alone. Can you come home? X_

"You have an ice cream drawer in your freezer?" Brittany questions with amusement, and Santana shoves the phone into her pocket before glaring down at Brittany.

"Shush you. Quinn went through a horrible breakup a few years ago and nearly kicked me out of the apartment when I told her there was no ice cream left and I wasn't going to go and get more for her." Brittany's eyebrows rise in the most adorable way, and Santana can't help but smile dopily down at her. "Yeah, she can be a bit dramatic like that."

"You two living together must be hilarious." Brittany comments, and Santana just gives her a look in reply as she clambers off the sofa in a completely undignified way.

"It has its perks. It has its downsides." Santana eventually replies, strolling over to the front door and picking her coat up.

"I don't want you to go." Brittany's sad voice sounds through the apartment, and when Santana turns round, Brittany is in front of her, pouting at her in the most adorable way.

"I don't want to go either, but unfortunately what Fabray wants, Fabray usually gets." Santana smiles, sliding her arms around Brittany's waist and tugging her closer.

"Thank you," she whispers. "For giving me a second chance."

Brittany doesn't say anything, just looks at her intently for a second, before leaning forward and kissing her.

Santana inhales sharply through her nose, caught off guard slightly, but relaxes into the kiss, squeezing at Brittany's hips and pulling their bodies flush together.

A wet tongue swipes over her lip, and Santana happily obliges, whimpering quietly when Brittany's tongue slide into her mouth and brushes against her own. She feels hands come up to cup her cheeks, thumbs tracing patterns into her skin, and she sighs contentedly.

Brittany tilts her head, and kisses her deeper, licking into Santana's mouth until her head is spinning, and if Brittany keeps this up, she's not going to make it back to Quinn, but fuck the blonde tastes so good.

Slowing the kiss down to gentle kisses, much to Brittany's displeasure, Santana sucks on her bottom lip a final time before detaching from Brittany's mouth.

"I really missed you," she whispers.

"I really missed you too," Brittany replies, kissing her on the tip of her nose before pulling back.

Santana just grins like a fool at her, practically bursting with happiness, before her phone buzzes again and breaks the moment. She places a chaste kiss on Brittany's cheek before embracing the blonde in a tight hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Santana says, and Brittany tightens her arms in response.

Leaning back, Santana is about to say goodbye, but gets distracted by Brittany licking her lips. There are a lot of places Santana would like that tongue to be, and she's very close to switching her phone off and pouncing on Brittany again.

They do have a week to make up for after all.

"Go," Brittany says playfully, knowing full well what she's doing to Santana. "Before I lock the door and keep you here to myself."

Well, _that_ isn't a tempting offer or anything

"Go," Brittany repeats with a smile, and Santana gives her a quick hug, promising to call her before she goes to bed, and exits the apartment.

/

There's still no labelling of what they are, words such as girlfriends or together weren't mentioned the whole evening, but Santana thinks she's okay with that for now. They've only had one date after their first "fight", and she doesn't want to rush into this relationship with Brittany. Cause obviously, that's where this is heading. A relationship.

Although Santana would probably happily be anything with Brittany.

But she's not going to deny the way she gets butterflies when she thinks about Brittany calling her my girlfriend, or her getting to introduce Brittany as my girlfriend.

Santana would have asked Brittany to be her girlfriend earlier, but she kind of wants to make it a bit more romantic than just blurting it out while cuddling on the sofa. Maybe take Brittany out on a fancy date, flowers, champagne, paying for her dinner and all that, then giving the blonde a prepared speech that she'll probably forget halfway through thanks to Brittany's eyes, before blushing like a tomato and nervously asking Brittany to be her girlfriend.

On second thought, maybe cuddling on the couch would have been a good idea.

Santana doesn't even know if labels really matter at this point, since she's falling in love with Brittany, and Brittany's falling in love with her.

And that is more than enough for Santana.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

I'm back! :)

As usual, sorry for the wait, RL got in the way again lol, and thank you very much for all your sweet reviews etc :)

Fic recs would be Bright Lights, Sin City by the wonderful parispal, The Wedding Date by NotAboutYou aaaan That Awkward Moment When by gurj14 :)

This is another chapter I wouldn't recommend reading in public, just a warning :P

Hope it doesn't disappoint, and feel free to leave me a review letting me know if you liked it or not :)

* * *

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"I just don't get it, if she's happy with me why does she want other people checking her out?" Quinn huffs loudly, breaking Santana's concentration for about the millionth time in five minutes since she came stomping into the office.

Despite Santana's increasingly obvious glares, and the very blunt and to the point _go away_, Quinn apparently doesn't get the hint Santana actually has work to do, and instead, continues pacing back and forth in front of the desk, still ranting about Rachel.

When she'd arrived home the previous evening, still dizzy from Brittany's barrage of goodbye kisses, Quinn had immediately pounced on her and dragged her into the kitchen, a tub of Baked Alaska and an alarmingly large bottle of wine sitting on the table. Paying more attention to the ice cream than to Quinn, Santana eventually discovered, amidst a lot of swearing and hand gestures, that when Quinn and Rachel were out for dinner earlier that evening, Quinn had had to go back into the restaurant to fetch her phone that she'd accidentally left on the table, and when she got back, some guy was shamelessly hitting on Rachel.

Rachel was apparently – according to Quinn – flirting back, and not stopping his perving on her; therefore Quinn blew up at Rachel. She'd shouted at Rachel, still in the middle of the street, going completely overboard in Santana's opinion, accusing Rachel of not wanting her anymore.

"-oh God, do you think she wants to break up?"

Santana gives up trying to tune her out when she catches the end of Quinn's rant, and sighs, putting her pen down.

"Quinn," she says, trying not to sound too grumpy. It takes a lot of effort, even more not to throw something at her best friend when she just keeps walking around, throwing her hands up as she starts on another long sentence about how Rachel probably does want to break up.

"Quinn!" Ryder might have heard that shout from across the road, but at least it finally catches Quinn's attention. She stops, turning to face Santana, who does her best not to sound too condescending when she next speaks. "You're my best friend and I love you, but you're being a fucking idiot."

Quinn opens her mouth to protest, but Santana holds up a finger, the Lopez-Fabray sign for _shut the fuck up and let me speak you bitch I'm doing this for your own good because you're being an unreasonable little shit._

"So some loser tried hitting on your girlfriend, so fucking what? Rachel's_ your_ girlfriend isn't she? She's with you, not him."

Santana manages to refrain from making a comment about how she still has trouble processing Quinn's apparent gnome fetish, or something mildly insulting like that, since it probably won't be detrimental to calming Quinn down so she fucks off and leaves Santana alone.

"Yeah, but why would she want someone that isn't me telling her how pretty she is?" Quinn squawks, completely missing the point.

Santana groans inwardly. God, she's going to have to be _nice_.

"Look, despite what I have told her, many _many_ times, Rachel doesn't actually resemble something from the depths of Mordor, and I don't think New York has a particularly huge blind population, and considering those pedophile-bait skirts she's so fond of wearing, even in this Arctic weather, it's not entirely shocking that people are going to leer at your girlfriend's legs."

She thinks she manages to fit enough insults in there to hide the fact she's almost complimenting Rachel.

"I compliment her all the time though! I even looked up synonyms for gorgeous cause I was running out."

Santana snorts. That's a good idea, actually, there's only so many variations of the words _beautiful blue eyed blonde _she can call Brittany in her head.

She stands up from her desk, moving round to the front and leaning against it. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't have, since she usually has these kinds of conversations with Quinn when there's alcohol close at hand, so maybe having a big solid desk between them would be safer.

"In case you're forgetting, Rachel got bullied pretty bad in Middle School and in freshmen year of High School, and I know we didn't directly do anything, but we didn't exactly stop it either." A guilty look crosses Quinn's face, matching the weird feeling in Santana's stomach. If they'd known they would become friends with Rachel and Kurt later on, they'd totally have stopped the bullying. Back then, the Diva Twins had just been that loud annoying girl and her extremely gay bff who got slushied all the time.

"I wouldn't know, being an insanely hot as I am, but I wouldn't be surprised if she just appreciates people calling her attractive cause they boost her self esteem. You know, reaffirm that everyone that talked shit about her looks in school was talking exactly that, bullshit."

There's a knock on the door before Quinn can say anything, although the pensive look on her face is hinting that Santana's finally getting through to her, and she looks towards the door to see Brittany's head peeking around into the room.

"Hey," she smiles at Santana, before glancing at Quinn. "Uh, Quinn, we kinda have to leave now if we want to make it there in time."

Quinn sighs, before nodding in Brittany's direction. "Yeah, okay, I'll just be a minute."

Brittany sends another dazzling smile in Santana's direction, before disappearing and shutting the door behind her.

Santana swallows, glad there's no one around to hear her next little speech. Nothing like a bit of sappiness before 1pm.

"For whatever reason, Rachel loves you, and you love her, and you are probably going to get married in some hideous Broadway-themed wedding, where I will be your Best Lady, get belligerently drunk and mention every embarrassing moment you've ever had in my speech, and Kurt will be Rachel's Man of Honor and do the exact same for her, and you'll probably go on to have annoyingly loud little babies with disproportionally large noses and terrifying death stares."

"Is there a point in there somewhere?" Quinn raises an eyebrow at her, trying to glare, but there's a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Rachel _loves_ you." Santana reiterates, hoping this will be over soon, so she can go for lunch with Tina and forget this ever happened. "It's disgusting to witness, but it's also blatantly obvious how in love with you she is. She's not gonna leave you just cause some creep on the streets stared for a second too long at her legs."

Santana starts tidying up her desk, figuring she may as well find Tina and go for lunch now since this little chat has taken so long, and then get back to work later on.

"God I was such a bitch to her." Quinn groans.

"So you messed up a bit. Just apologize, buy her flowers or some shit like that and she'll get over it." Santana replies, trying to remember what the hell she's done with her phone.

"What am I supposed to do?" Quinn sighs out, sounding defeated.

"You are gonna forget about it for the next couple hours, you and Britt are going to go to Brooklyn and do whatever it is you photographers do there all afternoon, and then you are going to go home, and first of all get changed, cause seriously, did you get dressed in the dark today?"

Santana raises at eyebrow at Quinn's catastrophe of a dress. "Fashion" confuses her.

"And then you are going to go to Rachel's, tell Kurt to fuck off and you are going to grovel or apologize or whatever, and Rachel is going to forgive you for being a bitch, and you two can continue to test my gag reflex by being offensively cute together." Santana finishes her speech with a sarcastic smile.

Quinn stares at her for a second before laughing. "Thank you. I think. This was strangely helpful." She somehow manages to look confused and grateful in the same expression.

"Glad to be of service." Santana beams. "Now fuck off, I have work to do."

Quinn rolls her eyes, but thankfully twirls around and exits the room.

Good to know if the whole design industry thing doesn't work out she could totally be some bottom shelf gossip magazine's agony aunt. Except she'd probably try and strangle someone, or herself, on the first day, so maybe not.

/

Since Quinn and Rachel are a real life disgusting fairy tale, Quinn comes sweeping into the kitchen, armed with an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, while Santana is making dinner, and announces she's going over to Rachel's.

"I take it she's no longer pissed at you."

"Well I think she is. But I called and said I was sorry, and I wanted to see her, and she invited me over, so I'm going to go grovel for a bit and hope she forgives me."

"Will you be home later?"

"Not if this evening ends how I want it to."

Santana looks up just in time to catch sight of the lecherous grin on Quinn's face just before she vanishes into the hallway, therefore missing the disgusted look thrown her way. "Please stop talking. I'd rather not vomit into this saucepan. I'm not you."

Santana hears Quinn's annoyed huff all the way from the other end of the hallway, followed by her feet stomping towards the kitchen. "That was _one time_. In _college_. During _Freshers Week_!" Her head appears around the corner to glare at Santana. "Let it go."

"Never." Santana laughs, hunting through the cupboard for some pepper. "When you eventually stick a ring on your hobbit I'm gonna mention that in my speech."

"That is the second time today you've referenced Rachel and I getting married, are you feeling okay?" Quinn appears next to her and tries to feel her forehead. Santana bats her away with the spoon not covered with tomato sauce, causing Quinn to giggle and leap backwards away from Santana. "And if you do do that I'm telling everyone about that Spring Break when you ran onto the hotel balcony naked and projectile vomited off of it."

Santana splutters, spinning around and glaring at Quinn. "You swore you'd never mention that again! We had a pact!"

"Did we?" Quinn shrugs, wandering over to the alcohol cupboard, opening it and taking out a bottle of wine. "Must have slipped my mind," she crosses the kitchen and kisses Santana on the cheek. "See you later, try not to have too wild a night with your pasta."

She leaves to skip down the hallway, not bothering to wait for a reply, and slams the door behind her, leaving a slightly stunned Santana alone in the apartment. With her pasta.

/

Shockingly enough, being home alone on a Saturday night turns out to be really fucking boring. It's all reruns of old seasons of American Idol or Real Housewives on TV, and she's not really in the mood to start paperwork for April Rhodes and her insanity, so Santana gets bored pretty quickly.

Quinn's grovelling to Rachel, Kurt has a date with Sebastian, and Puck's working, and not to sound like a loser or anything, but Santana doesn't really have a huge amount of other friends she'd like to hang out on a Saturday night with. Before, she'd just pick out her shortest and tightest dress, go to Puck's and annoy him until she caught sight of a girl hot enough for her standards, and go home with her, but now, she obviously has no interest in sleeping with random women.

She gives a passing thought to asking if Brittany wants to hang out, but they did just see each other yesterday, so she doesn't want to sound too eager. Then she thinks fuck it, she's allowed to be eager, and stands up from the couch to hunt around for her phone.

In the ten minutes it takes her to find it – under her fucking bed, of all places – it's started to rain, pretty heavily.

"Fucking New York weather." She grumbles to herself, sprawling out on her bed and waiting for Brittany to pick up.

"Hey!" Brittany's bright voice sounds through the phone after a couple of rings.

"Hey. How are you?" Santana can't help but smile at the infectiously happy tone to the blonde's voice.

"I'm fine." There's a strange hissing sound in the background and Santana raises an eyebrow. "I'm trying to clean the mess Sam left in the kitchen, but I think this pancake batter is stuck to the counter. How are you?"

"I'm good, kinda bored actually. Just called to see what you were up to," _and to hear your voice_, she mentally adds on. "And you didn't clean your kitchen yesterday? How hygienic."

"Uh, I don't actually have any plans, Sam's still in Boston obviously so I have the apartment to myself, I was just gonna order pizza and watch a movie or something," Brittany stops to laugh, and there's a loud bang in the background. Santana didn't know cleaning could be so loud. "Plus I kinda had company last night, so I haven't had time to clean it yet."

Santana rolls over onto her front, chewing her lip as she mulls over her next words. It's not totally presumptuous to think Brittany would want to do something, just because she doesn't have plans, is it?

"Well," Santana starts, drawing the word out playfully and toying nervously with the hem of her pillow. "If you're not doing anything, and I'm not doing anything, what would you say to not doing anything together?"

There's a pause, and when Brittany starts speaking again Santana can hear the smile in her voice. "I would say what kind of pizza do you like, and how quickly can you get here?"

Santana tries not to squeal in happiness like a teenager, instead just sitting up and sliding off her bed, flinging her closet door open and starting to hunt through for clothes that don't make her look homeless, like the Dorito-stained sweatpants she's wearing do.

"Pepperoni and extra cheese, and I'll be there in like 30 minutes."

/

Of course, the evening New York has chosen to break its week-long drought on is the same evening Santana can't flag a fucking taxi down, and it's raining ever harder by the time Santana steps foot outside her apartment.

She's halfway to Brittany's when a cab finally deigns to stop for her, and she scrambles into the backseat, grumbling Brittany's address to the driver.

Digging around in her bag until she finds her phone, Santana uses the back of it to check her reflection, and well, she hopes Brittany isn't expecting glamour this evening, cause she looks like she decided to swim her way across New York. Through the sewers.

The cab drops her off outside Brittany's building a few minutes later, and she shoves some bills through the little hole, muttering a thank you and dashing up the stairs and pressing the buzzer. Brittany buzzes her in, and Santana walks through the door. The elevator's been fixed, and Santana's feeling lazy, so she presses the button, waits, and steps into it when it arrives, pressing the button for the third floor.

Unfortunately, the elevator seems to be one giant mirror, and she stares in horror at her hair slowly turning frizzy in the warm air of the building. What use is having a hood on a jacket if the fucking hood doesn't actually protect your hair at all?

Brittany opens the door with a gigantic smile, and she's wearing a blue and white plaid shirt, and some incredibly tight white jeans, and Jesus Christ how the hell does Brittany manage to look like a fucking supermodel all the time?

To Brittany's credit, she does manage to keep a straight face when she takes in Santana's bedraggled appearance, stepping back to let her in. She then ruins it by asking how many towels Santana would like, and Santana just glares at her until Brittany bursts out laughing and backs her up against the door for a kiss hello.

A kiss hello that gets interrupted fifteen minutes later by a very flustered pizza delivery boy who obviously heard exactly what was going on the other side of the door, but Santana's really not complaining.

/

Turns out, Brittany's sunny disposition and general happy-ness, are just a cover up for her appalling taste in movies. For about the tenth time in five minutes, Santana squeaks loudly, and buries her head into the crook of Brittany's neck as the unfortunate scantily clad blonde on the screen gets her head ripped off by an axe wielding psychopath.

They'd started the movie on opposite ends of the couch, Brittany hiding the DVD case from Santana and not telling her what the movie was about, but at the first sight of a blood stained axe and a few dismembered limbs, Santana had shot across the sofa and practically landed in Brittany's lap, much to the blonde's amusement.

Brittany has managed to hold back her laughs so far, but when Santana whines quietly at the maniacal laugh Mr Axe lets out, she starts chuckling, wrapping her arm around Santana's shoulders and pulling her closer.

"Scared?" She giggles out, and Santana takes the opportunity to slide her arm around Brittany's waist, snuggling further into her. Okay maybe horror movies aren't that bad. This is certainly a plus. Brittany smells really nice today, and she's really comfy and warm, so Santana will happily not watch the rest of the movie from her current position.

"You have shocking taste in movies," Santana deadpans, refusing to move her head when she hears more screams from the TV. Brittany laughs again, the motion rocking against Santana's body.

"Something must be making you stick around." Brittany chuckles, kissing the top of her head.

"It's not your eye for Oscar winners, that's for sure." Santana mumbles back, smiling against Brittany's neck.

Brittany doesn't reply, and the screaming onscreen has quieted, so Santana chances looking up. Brittany's staring with rapt attention at the screen, and when Santana glances over, the gratuitous horror movie sex scene is taking place. In a barn. On some hay. While all their friends are getting graphically murdered by a freakshow with an axe. As you do.

Ignoring Brittany perving on the shirtless guy on screen, Santana lets her gaze drift around the room, eventually coming back to Brittany. Specifically, landing on Brittany's left hand, which is innocently sitting in her lap, her fingers splayed against her thigh.

Santana gulps.

She really should not be thinking about how good Brittany's fingers felt all over her body. On her ass, her hips, her legs, her boobs, in her hair… It's only been a day since they decided to properly do things right, they can't jump straight into sex just yet.

Although Santana isn't entirely sure of the mechanics of an actual relationship. She's used to sleeping with girls the same night she meets them, she has no idea how long you're supposed to wait if you're actually dating someone.

The moaning now loudly coming from the television is really not helping matters either. Of course Brittany would pick the one horror movie where the acting is actually convincing. Santana shifts slightly, desperately trying to think about anything other than the way Brittany moaned breathily whenever Santana kissed her or touched her in just the right way. It's especially difficult not to let her mind leap into the gutter when the blonde girl – of course – on screen swears loudly, and Santana immediately remembers Halloween, Brittany swearing and whimpering shamelessly.

"You're staring," Brittany whispers, a smirk on her lips as she keeps her eyes on the TV.

Santana blinks, and realizes that yep, she is indeed staring at Brittany's profile like a lunatic.

"Stop it. It's distracting." Brittany continues, the corners of her lips curving up a bit more.

Santana continues blinking like a moron for a few more seconds, before her brain decides to start functioning and she realizes _she's distracting Brittany_.

"Sorry," she says with a grin, not meaning it at all. Brittany hums quietly, still staring at the TV where blondie and the shirtless dude are still going at it. Jesus this movie's only an hour and a half long, and half of them are still alive. Sex sells, and all that.

Santana licks her lips, and wonders if it would be rude to just pounce on Brittany, when Psycho Axe Man bursts in on the couple, and proceeds to slam his axe into the guy's back. Literally, an axe in the back, that's not a dirty metaphor. Brittany snorts and starts laughing when Santana jumps, going back to her previous position of hiding against Brittany's neck.

"Shut up," she grumbles, which just makes Brittany laugh harder. The blonde shifts slightly, turning more towards her, and Santana lifts her head when she feels Brittany's left hand land on her thigh, just above her knee.

Her breath gets caught in her throat when she sees the way Brittany's looking at her.

"You know if you really don't want to watch the movie," she starts off. "Not that you were watching it in the first place that is," she smirks. "I can think of a pretty good distraction for you," she trails off suggestively, dropping her eyes to Santana's lips with all the subtlety of a beached whale.

Well, Santana doesn't need to be asked twice.

Leaning in, she presses their lips together, sliding her left arm around Brittany's shoulder and tugging her closer. The blonde tastes as delicious as always, a weird mix of her raspberry lip-gloss and the pizza from earlier, but Santana decides it's her new favorite flavor, so she presses harder, eagerly licking her way into the blonde's mouth and kissing her deeply.

A scream, following by a squelching noise that sounds suspiciously like a limb getting lopped off erupts from the TV, and Brittany's hand slides off Santana's thigh, hunting around blindly for the remote, jabbing at the pause button when she eventually picks it up. Tossing the remote onto the floor, Brittany's hands move back to cup her cheeks softly; in a stark contrast to the way her tongue is hotly brushing against Santana's.

She's so fucking glad Sam's in Boston tonight.

/

A little while later, they're still kissing heavily, just minus Santana's shirt, which Brittany had unceremoniously yanked off her, before pressing her back into the couch and swinging a leg over her waist, straddling Santana and immediately going for her chest.

And it appears – not that Santana is complaining in the slightest – that Brittany is a boob girl.

She's come to this _wonderful_ conclusion due to Brittany spending the last ten minutes showering her chest with affection, squeezing and kneading at her tits, pinching and rubbing at her nipples over her bra, kissing and licking along her collarbone and between her breasts. Santana's hips rut upwards each time Brittany squeezes that little bit harder, or the soft kiss turns to a harsh suck.

As fantastic as Brittany's fingers are, Santana feels like she's about to implode if she doesn't get Brittany's mouth fully on her boobs soon.

After another few minutes, the only sounds echoing around the apartment that of Santana's soft moans and Brittany's quiet whispers of how hot she is, Brittany pulls back, sitting up until she's settled on Santana's lap, thighs either side of Santana's hips.

Apparently not wanting to waste any time, her hands drop to Santana's shoulders, tugging at them and urging Santana to sit up, before leaning back in to kiss her. Santana moves her own hands from off clothed thighs, one sliding into Brittany's hair and the other cupping the back of her neck, tugging on Brittany's head until she's at a better angle to kiss the blonde deeply.

Brittany groans into the kiss, brushing their tongues together and kissing her hotly as her arms loop around Santana's body, fingers trailing up and down her back until they come to rest at the strap of her bra. Santana kisses her harder, indicating her consent and Brittany's fingers play with the clasp for a second or two until it's popping open.

Hands move up to slide the straps off her shoulders, and the cool air of the apartment hits her chest, causing Santana to shiver involuntarily. Breaking the kiss, Santana removes her hands from Brittany's hair, letting the blonde tug her bra off and chuckling when it gets flung unceremoniously behind the sofa.

Darkened blue eyes drop to her chest, Santana's gaze fixates on Brittany's tongue darting out to lick her lips, and her smart ass comment about being eager gets lodged in her throat at the hungry look on the blonde's face.

A gulp, and a softly breathed _you are so beautiful_ is all the warning Santana gets before Brittany pounces, shoving her down against the sofa and dropping her head to press their lips together again. Hands come up to cup her boobs, squeezing gently, and Santana moans into Brittany's mouth, her hips bucking up unconsciously.

Shifting her hips slightly, Brittany nudges at the inside of Santana's leg with her knee, and Santana happily obliges, spreading her legs so the blonde on top of her can settle between them. A wet tongue dips into Santana's mouth at the same time the fingers on her left breast move to pinch her nipple, and Santana whimpers, wrapping her arms around Brittany's body to pull her closer.

Brittany keeps kneading and squeezing at her chest, alternating between thumbs swiping over her nipples and gently pinching at them, and Jesus fucking _Christ_, Brittany seems to know exactly what to do to drive Santana insane. She wouldn't be surprised if she's completely ruined her underwear by now, cause she is insanely wet. She can feel them sticking to her, and shit, this is just from Brittany touching her boobs.

Brittany breaks the kiss, and giggles quietly at Santana's protesting whimper, resting their foreheads together.

"Your boobs are amazing," Brittany comments, the puffs of air hitting against Santana's damp lips.

"Your hands are pretty fucking amazing too, Britt." Santana says, or half-says, half-gasps, and Brittany smirks, slowly rolling her hips down in a barely there grind.

_Jesus Christ_.

At that moment, she notices Brittany is still annoyingly fully clothed. Something that needs to be remedied immediately, in Santana's humble opinion.

Moving her hands up the blonde's back and around her neck, Santana grasps at the collar of her shirt and tugs her back down into a kiss. She kisses Brittany hard, sucking on her top lip, nibbling on her bottom one, brushing her tongue along the seam of her mouth until it opens, and she slides her tongue in, kissing the blonde until she's whimpering into Santana's mouth.

Brittany rocks her hips down again, slightly harder, and Santana groans, heat flaring through her body.

She closes her eyes at the motion, tipping her head back, and Brittany happily takes advantage, dipping down and pressing her lips against Santana's pulse point. Santana wraps her arms around Brittany's neck, holding her close, and a shiver rips through her body when Brittany moans against her, and opens her mouth, biting at Santana's throat before sucking softly, her tongue swiping over the skin after.

Brittany's hips are still moving, lightly grinding down, not enough for it to be mind-blowingly pleasurable, but enough for Santana to feel it, and for heat to slowly start pooling in the bottom of her stomach.

She pushes on Brittany's shoulders slightly, until there's enough space between them that she can move her hands to the front of Brittany's shirt. The kiss breaks again, and Brittany leans back, glancing down at Santana's fingers making quick work of the first two buttons on her shirt.

Santana looks up, and gulps at the intense stare Brittany's pinned her with. Brittany's breathing gets slightly heavier as Santana makes her way down the buttons, and she has to swallow a moan when Brittany's breasts come into view, encased in a white bra with a little red bow on the front, followed by her abs, slightly tensed from supporting her weight above Santana.

When the last button gets popped open, Brittany rises up onto her knees, shrugging the offending shirt off her shoulders and dumping it on the floor next to the couch. Santana's probably looking at her like a piece of meat – but like, looking at her _lovingly_ like a piece of meat, so it's totally okay – but she forgets to care since the image of a topless Brittany straddling her is not something she's going to be forgetting anytime soon.

She's only seen Brittany minus her shirt twice, on Halloween and the morning after that. The former, it had been dark and they'd still been slightly drunk, and latter Santana definitely did not get enough time to appreciate Brittany's chest.

Santana swallows, her eyes raking over Brittany's bare torso, across her abs, her hipbones peeking out over the top of her jeans, her perfect looking breasts, and she has to fight back another embarrassingly loud moan, since something about Brittany just brings out the horny teenager in her.

Sure, half naked women are always fucking hot, but usually they'd have to actually be touching Santana to turn her on, but God, just the sight of Brittany's boobs spilling out from the top of her bra has her shivering with want. That's never happened before, and if this evening ends the way Santana thinks it's going to, she may actually die.

Death by orgasm would certainly make for an interesting epitaph.

Brittany swoops back down to kiss her, and Santana flails her hands about for a minute before they land on Brittany's hips, pushing and pulling at them lightly, aiding Brittany in her deliciously slow grinding against Santana. She breaks the kiss to pant heavily at one particularly forceful grind of her hips, and Santana's mouth drops open in a low groan when Brittany's hands land back on her chest.

She feels dizzy, hot and sticky, like Brittany's everywhere, completely surrounding her. She feels like she's drowning, and it's the most amazing thing she's ever felt in her life.

Tipping her head back against the arm of the sofa, Santana squeezes her eyes shut in pleasure as Brittany moves her kisses down across her throat, licking and sucking at the skin there, before moving to her collarbone, and then down towards her boobs. Santana moves her hands up from where they're stroking against the smooth skin of Brittany's back to thread though Brittany's hair, trying to subtly nudge Brittany's mouth in the direction of her rock hard nipples.

Brittany happily does so, leaving soft kisses across them, before flicking out her tongue to gently trace the lightest of circles around them.

After Spencer, when Santana started her string of one night stands and fuck buddies, she'd had one rule, and one rule only; no eye contact.

Especially if the other girl was going down on her, cause Christ, talk about intimate.

But of course, this being Brittany, the girl she loves, Santana doesn't bother resisting when Brittany pauses, and whispers _look at me_, hot breath hitting her nipples and making her shiver.

Tilting her head down until hazy brown meets hooded blue, Brittany smirks up at her before wrapping her lips around Santana's nipple and sucking gently.

"Fucking- _shit_." Santana gasps out intelligently, struggling to keep her eyes open. It's almost automatic to try and shut her eyes, but holy fuck it's so much hotter seeing it happen at the same time.

A tongue swirls around her nipple, her lips sucking softly before letting her teeth graze against it, and Santana's entire body quivers, her head falling back against the arm of the sofa with a whine.

Her head is spinning, she feels dizzy, and the pounding in her legs has flared up again, beginning to get unbearable.

"God, Britt, you're so fucking good at that," Brittany detaches from her nipple with a wet pop, running her tongue against it again for good measure, before trailing her lips over to Santana's other breast. Santana squeaks, like actually fucking squeaks out a high pitched _uh_, when Brittany opens her mouth against the skin at the top of Santana's boob, sucking harshly until Santana is positive there'll be a bruise.

_No v-necks for a while then…_

Lifting her head away from Santana's chest to admire her handiwork – mouthiwork? – Brittany's eyes flick up to stare heatedly at Santana.

"Do you want to stop?"

Does she want to_ stop? _Is Brittany fucking_ insane?_

Santana tries not to shudder at the _fuck me_ tone to Brittany's voice, and shakes her head, words escaping her.

Brittany chuckles, muttering something that sounds an awful lot like _just checking_, and drops her head to trail her lips over every square inch of Santana's boob before finally sucking the nipple into her mouth again, tongue flicking against it.

Her entire body feels hot, and tingly, her blood boiling underneath her skin, and Brittany just adds fuel to the raging fire, nibbling gently at her nipple, grazing her teeth against it harder and harder until Santana whimpers her name out into the empty apartment, and her fingers slide up Santana's body to toy with the other one, rubbing and tugging at the stiff peak.

The hand playing with her breast pauses for a moment, Brittany using it to tuck some hair that's fallen into her eyes behind her ear, and Santana, being the gentlewoman she is, moves her own hands from where they're flung uselessly above her head and slides them into soft blonde hair. Brittany's eyes open to gaze up at her, and Santana combs through her hair, pushing it out of the way and piling it on top of Brittany's head, giving her a clear view of the attention her nipple is getting, and fuck this is _so_ hot.

Her eyes dart between dark blue eyes staring up at her and where Brittany's mouth is attached to her, alternating between sucking on the nipple, dragging the flat of her tongue over it and tracing the tip of her tongue around it.

The burning between her legs and low in her stomach has intensified by like a million times, and Santana briefly wonders if it's actually possibly to come like this, just from Brittany attacking her tits. Brittany's hips rock down against hers again, and _okay_ yes it's _very _possible she could come like this.

/

It doesn't take long until Brittany's bra is joining Santana's on the floor, Santana leaning up to press kisses against Brittany's jaw, dragging her lips down her throat and sucking at the thumping pulse point. Her hands trace across Brittany's back, nails gently scratching and causing the blonde on top of her to shiver and whimper quietly.

Santana pushes at Brittany's shoulders until she sits up and leans back onto her knees, and Santana takes a brief moment to drool over Brittany's perfectly shaped tits, the hard pink nipples making her mouth water, before leaning in to dust soft kisses across the top of them.

Brittany whimpers, letting her head fall back, and Santana feels hands on the back of her head, pressing gently and keeping her there. Like she'd want to be _anywhere_ else right now. Her hands drift down to Brittany's hips, giving them a gentle squeeze before sliding them slowly up Brittany's ribcage and letting her thumbs brush against the soft underside of Brittany's boobs.

Brittany whimpers, pushing her chest forward again, and Santana happily complies, bringing her hands up to softly cup Brittany's breasts, squeezing them while she kisses and licks her way slowly towards the nipples she can feel pebbling under her palms.

A low whine tumbles from Brittany's lips when Santana closes her mouth around Brittany's left nipple, sucking at it and flicking her tongue against it, and her self-esteem balloons a bit more when Brittany desperately gasps her name, her nails digging into the back of Santana's head.

She never knew someone's _skin_ could taste so fucking good. It just makes her lick and suck more eagerly at Brittany's chest, and anything that causes Brittany to whimper like _that_ is pretty fucking fantastic in Santana's book.

She lets her thumb brush over the other nipple, and Brittany moans again, her back arching and her hands pressing Santana's face harder against her chest. Santana smirks at the reaction she's getting, the guttural moans echoing around the apartment when she trails kisses over to Brittany's other nipple, kissing the soft flesh around it before sucking it into her mouth, and _God_ it is insanely fucking hot knowing she's the one doing this to Brittany.

Brittany's hands move to cup Santana's cheeks, pulling gently until Santana releases her nipple with a wet pop, and she stares at Brittany's chest a few seconds longer, appreciating the little red marks dotted across it that her teeth have left, before flicking her eyes upwards to meet Brittany's heated stare.

Alright then, Brittany's nipples; major turn on point. Good to know. _Excellent_ to know. Santana files that away for extensive future use.

She barely has time to react before Brittany's mouth is on hers again, kissing her deeply, and she topples backwards back along the length of the sofa, Brittany landing on top of her, her hands immediately gripping at Santana's hips, softly stroking at the bare skin there.

Hands slide across Santana's stomach until they reach them hem of her jeans, and Brittany breaks the kiss, leaning back to look down at Santana in question. Santana nods breathlessly, and Brittany smiles, leaning back in to press their lips together as her fingers pop open the top button. Tugging at the zipper, she pushes the pants down as far as she can reach, leaving Santana to kick them off the rest of the way.

Laughing when she nearly knees Brittany in the stomach, they return to their position of Brittany on top, settled between Santana's open legs. Brittany immediately drops her head to kiss Santana, hot and open-mouthed, tongues stroking together. Santana groans when Brittany starts rocking her hips down harder than before, one hand moving to tangle in Brittany's hair and the other sliding down to Brittany's ass, squeezing and encouraging Brittany to grind against her harder, until they're basically dry humping each other like horny teenagers.

"You do have a bedroom you know," Santana gasps when Brittany breaks the kiss for air. "Like, with a bed."

"Mm-hmm, I do." Brittany hums in response, nudging Santana's jaw up with her nose and littering soft kisses across her neck.

Santana moans, tipping her head back and happily giving Brittany more access to run her tongue and lips over her skin. Brittany's mouth opens against her throat and sucks gently, while her shifts her weight to lean on her left arm, her right hand stroking over the bare skin of Santana's thighs, before curving round and tugging, encouraging Santana to lift her legs and wrap them around Brittany's waist.

"Bed," Santana says, although it sounds a lot less firm than she'd have preferred.

Brittany giggles, and leans up to kiss her quickly, before shifting off the sofa to kneel on the floor, dragging Santana's legs around with her. Hands grab at her hips, tugging her forward until she can wrap her legs back around Brittany's waist, and then hands move to her ass, gripping tightly as Brittany picks her up like she weighs nothing.

Yup, still insanely fucking hot.

Brittany sways for a second, before steadying herself, and begins to walk towards her bedroom. Santana leans down to kiss her, her hands stroking against the soft skin at the base of Brittany's neck, and she's quite impressed Brittany hasn't fallen over, or dropped her or something. Santana's toothpick arms probably wouldn't be able to do this.

Brittany carries her into the bedroom, kicking the door open and swinging it closed with her foot, before making her way to the bed and depositing Santana onto it. She's expecting Brittany to follow, but when she doesn't immediately feel the warm weight of Brittany's body landing on top of her, Santana opens her eyes, staring in question at Brittany.

The blonde is standing at the end of the bed, her eyes raking over Santana's almost naked body. She props herself up on her elbows and smirks up at Brittany, feeling very smug at the way Brittany's dark eyes are lingering on her chest, and on the black panties sitting low on her hips.

"Like what you see?" Santana questions, cocking her head to the side and smirking wider when Brittany's eyes flick up to her face. The blonde shakes her head, apparently snapping out of her boob-trance, and shoots her own smirk at Santana, moving her hands from where they're hanging by her sides to rest on her lower stomach.

Santana's breath hitches audibly, and her eyes glue to the way Brittany's fingers slowly start stroking at her own skin, before drifting down and undoing the top button on her jeans. She pulls the fabric excruciatingly slowly down her mile long legs, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on the presumably stupid look on Santana's face.

Santana gulps. Brittany in general is pretty fucking hot, but Brittany in nothing except light blue panties, all dark eyes and tousled hair, is making her lower stomach clench in arousal, and making her heart thump wildly against her ribcage, and Jesus Christ, Brittany has got to be hands down the most beautiful woman on the planet.

Brittany steps out of her jeans, kicking them behind her, and climbs onto the bed, falling forward onto all fours and crawling up until she's hovering over Santana, legs either side of her waist and hands either side of her head.

"Hey," she whispers affectionately, leaning down and brushing their noses together, before kissing Santana softly.

Santana ignores the minor heart attack she's possibly experiencing, and tilts her head to meet Brittany's lips, sucking on the bottom one softly and letting her hands trail up and down the outside of Brittany's thighs.

At this point, it's glaringly obvious how this night is going to end – hot, naked and sweaty – and in all Santana's daydreams and wet dreams about having sex with Brittany, she'd never factored in how nervous she suddenly feels.

God, she's Santana fucking Lopez; she doesn't get nervous before, during or after sex. She doesn't get awkward, or cry, or make a fool out of herself or anything when her and another naked woman are concerned.

Aside from the first one after Spencer, that one was pretty terrible. She'd gone to Scandals, Lima's shitty run down gay bar, got embarrassingly drunk and went home with a redhead with one too many piercings for her to be entirely comfortable with, before spending half the night throwing up in the toilet and the other half crying over Spencer and apologizing to the redhead.

But apart from that, she's fucking great at sex.

The reason for her nerves is another thing that's glaringly obvious. This is the first time in a very long time that sex will actually mean something to Santana beyond just wanting to get off. She's good at sex, she knows she is, but this means way more than all the drunken one-night stands put together. This is pretty much the furthest thing from a hook up she's ever had.

Brittany kisses her again as one hand moves to stroke over Santana's cheek, inhaling through her nose and sighing against Santana's lips, and she can feel Brittany's eyelashes tickling against her face they're so close together.

Santana wouldn't be surprised if she suddenly woke up, and this had all been another one of her vivid dreams about Brittany. She's still in awe that this is actually happening, that she's in Brittany's bed, they're both almost completely naked, they've talked about feelings, and they're now kissing softly, Brittany's breasts softly brushing against her own.

Brittany's boobs.

Against her own.

The kiss gets hotter a hell of a lot quicker at that point, Brittany's tongue parting her lips and sliding into her mouth, and hands landing on her breasts again. Santana groans, her back arching as Brittany brushes her thumbs over her nipples, and tugs on them slightly, her lips licking down Santana's neck, sucking and kissing across her collarbone.

Santana's head falls back against the fluffy pillow, and she sighs out Brittany's name as the blonde keeps up her double assault on her neck and chest. A hot flush scorches over her entire body, and it's starting to feel _too_ good, and in all her little fantasies about her first time with the blonde, none of those involve embarrassing herself by coming too early.

So that is certainly not happening now.

Trailing her hands up Brittany's back, she lets her fingers tangle in blonde hair, and pulls gently, Brittany kissing back up her neck towards her lips. Santana kisses her slowly for long moments, trying to calm herself down a bit. The kiss breaks, and Brittany looks down at her, breathless and panting hard, her lips swollen and her eyes brimming with lust. Santana's about to speak, but Brittany beats her to it.

"You know, if you aren't going to do anything, maybe I'll just touch myself,"

Santana's brain short circuits.

"I mean it's only fair that you have to go through the same torture I did." Brittany continues airily, smirking wickedly down at her. Santana blinks stupidly, before cupping Brittany's face with her hands and pulling her down into a kiss that's all tongues and very little finesse. She dips her tongue into Brittany's mouth, kissing her deeply until Brittany's whimpering and her arms are shaking either side of Santana's head.

Santana moves her hands, stroking them down Brittany's neck, across her shoulders and around to her chest. She squeezes her breasts, runs her thumbs over the stiff nipples until Brittany groans into her mouth and her hips jerk down. She traces her fingers down Brittany's ribcage, curving round to stroke at the small of her back, and Brittany's elbows give out when she slides her hands under Brittany's underwear and palms at the curve of her ass.

Brittany breaks the kiss to pant against Santana's mouth, her hips rolling down forcefully with each squeeze of her ass, and she whimpers quietly when Santana's hands retreat from her underwear, instead hooking her fingers into the waistband and pulling them down slowly.

Brittany lifts each leg in succession, so Santana can finally yank the last piece of clothing off and chuck it onto the floor. Santana leans up to kiss her again, tongues stroking hotly together, and she returns her right hand to Brittany's ass, her left falling to stroke against the back of Brittany's knee.

Santana groans when Brittany bites at her bottom lip, and rolls her hips down meaningfully. Her kisses are getting messier, and her whimpers start escalating in volume, and it doesn't exactly take a genius to figure out what she wants, so Santana slowly curves her hand round and starts tracing up the inside of Brittany's thigh.

She can feel the heat radiating off Brittany's center before she even reaches it, and she does her best to ignore her own surging arousal, scratching gently against Brittany's skin and enjoying the way the blonde's body shakes on top of her.

The kiss breaks and Brittany moans out her name when Santana's fingers eventually slide against her center, and she tries not to hyperventilate because holy fucking shit Brittany is _so_ wet. Like, Santana's been with a lot of girls, but she doesn't think she's ever felt anyone be so fucking ready for her.

Santana presses harder, parting the soaked folds and sliding her fingers through the wetness. She circles her fingers around Brittany's entrance, which earns her a gasp and a harder jerk of the hips, before dragging them higher and rolling the pads of her fingers over her clit. Brittany gasps, her back arches and her hips rock down when Santana starts tracing circles around it, pressing harder every so often, and she stares up at Brittany's expression in awe.

Her eyes are closed, her lips parted and her eyebrows scrunched together, and she's whimpering lowly, her hair a tousled blonde mess haloing her head. Santana drops her gaze lower, and the heat builds higher in her as she watches Brittany's breasts sway slightly, her nipples still wet from Santana's mouth, and further down, Santana catches sight of her own fingers touching Brittany, shiny with the blonde's arousal.

"Please," Brittany gasps, rolling her hips down desperately. "I want you so much."

A jolt of electricity shoots through Santana's body at that, settling into the steady throbbing between her legs and doubling her arousal, and it snaps something inside of Santana.

Pressing against Brittany's swollen clit a final time, she drags her fingers further down, and circles Brittany's wet entrance a few times, before sliding one finger in, pulling out, and pushing back in with two.

Brittany drops her head and their foreheads bump together, as a long moan tumbles from her lips. Santana pumps her fingers shallowly a few times, Brittany's legs spreading wider and her body pushing down to meet them. She's so hot and wet and soft around Santana's fingers, it's making her head spin and sending sparks of arousal through her body.

She drives her fingers fully into Brittany, who groans, biting her lip and staring down at Santana with near-black eyes. It sends a shiver through her, and she just repeats the motion, sliding out before burying her fingers back in, twisting them and curling them experimentally until Brittany's mouth drops open, her eyes shut and her back arches.

_Bingo._

"_There_, oh God, right there," Brittany whimpers, her head falling forward and burying her face into Santana's neck. Santana manages to turn her head enough to get at Brittany's ear, and sucks the earlobe into her mouth, nibbling and tugging at it.

"You feel so fucking good Britt, oh my God," she groans, and Brittany just whimpers in response, her hips rolling down to meet Santana's thrusts, which is quite possibly the hottest thing Santana's ever seen.

Santana grips harder onto the blonde's ass with her free hand, and starts speeding up her fingers, pounding into her harder and harder, curling them and hitting the same spot over and over again until Brittany's shaking and gasping, crying out Santana's name into the hot sticky air of the bedroom.

Brittany's getting impossibly wetter, and she's starting to tighten around Santana's fingers, so Santana increases the pace, feeling Brittany's teeth bite into her neck and the subsequent moans vibrate through her body.

"_Fuck_," Brittany gasps. "San, please, I'm gonna- I need, _uh_," Santana twists her fingers slightly, turning Brittany's little ramble into a deep moan.

Angling her hand slightly, Santana circles around Brittany's clit with her thumb, pressing on it until she feels walls clenching around her fingers for a little too long, before lightening the pressure.

She repeats the movement a few times, Brittany's whines getting higher and breathier, until she starts pumping her fingers hard and brushing her thumb repeatedly over Brittany's clit. Santana can feel Brittany's heavy breathing hitting against her neck, and there's a brief second where Brittany freezes, before her entire body spasms and her walls clamp down on the fingers buried inside her as she comes with a loud cry of Santana's name.

Santana slides the hand on Brittany's ass up to wrap around her waist, holding the blonde against her and continuing to slowly pump her fingers in and out as Brittany's hips jerk with the aftershocks, wanting to prolong the ecstatic whimpers in her ear for as long as possible.

She thought Brittany moaning her name while they made out in her office was hot. Fucking hell, that's got nothing on hearing Brittany moaning her name in the midst of an orgasm.

Watching and feeling Brittany come is the hottest, most amazing thing she's ever seen, and no way in hell is she done yet.

/

In one smooth movement, Santana removes her fingers and rolls them over until Brittany's sprawled out on her back, still looking a bit dazed. She sits up onto her knees to drink in the appearance of the blonde, and holy fucking _shit_ Santana's pretty sure if she were a dude, she'd have blown her load by now at the sight of Brittany beneath her. She has to take a second to collect herself when she looks down at Brittany, completely naked, legs spread, center glistening and entire body trembling from the previous orgasm.

She places her hands on the blonde's thighs, just above the knee, and rubs her thumbs softly into the skin. She lets her eyes trail up Brittany's body, from the wetness between her legs, over her twitching abs, her heaving chest, and when she reaches Brittany's face, she's met with a knowing smirk and lust-filled dark blue eyes.

Santana drops forwards onto her hands, and she feels Brittany's land on her ass, squeezing and pulling her forward until she can grind into the wet heat between Brittany's legs. The blonde tosses her head back against the pillow with a groan, and Santana drops her head to kiss at her throat.

She trails her lips down Brittany's body, cupping her breasts with her hands and sucking the nipples into her mouth, flicking and circling her tongue against them, and nibbling on them gently nipple, and dusting kisses across the underside of them.

She skates her fingertips down across Brittany's ribs, following the path with her lips, before moving to the top of the smooth plane of Brittany's stomach, and showers it with affection, licking and kissing at each ridge of Brittany's abs, and trailing her tongue over the protrusions of her hipbones.

Jesus, Brittany has nice hips. Santana doesn't know why she's surprised, considering every other inch of the blonde's body is perfect.

Santana licks and kisses a path up Brittany's thigh, before settling onto her stomach, her right hand curling under Brittany's thigh to grip at her waist, and her left pushing Brittany's other thigh away, until the blonde's legs are spread widely right in front of her.

She takes a moment to appreciate Brittany, all flushed folds and dripping wetness, and she licks her lips without even thinking about it, faintly hearing Brittany whimper from above her. She moves her left hand towards Brittany's already wet and swollen center, slowly trailing a single finger through her and brushing it against her clit, smirking at the way Brittany's hips arch into the touch.

Brittany groans deeply, and Santana glances up to see her tugging and pinching at her own nipples, and the sight sends a blaze of piping hot arousal through her, so she places another kiss on Brittany's thigh next to her head, before lifting Brittany's leg over her shoulder, dropping her head and sliding her tongue through her.

She's not sure who moans louder out of the two of them, but she doesn't care, licking her lips before diving back in, stroking her tongue through Brittany's drenched folds, groaning at how fucking good she tastes.

It's sweet, and tangy, and so fucking good, and Santana moans and shuts her eyes when Brittany's taste floods into her mouth, licking and lapping harder and faster.

Brittany whimpers, her body squirming and shaking, and she tosses her head back with a loud moan when Santana moves her tongue to flick against her clit, before wrapping her lips around it and sucking.

"Oh- oh God Santana," she pants, and Santana feels fingers tangle in her hair, tugging on it and forcing her closer as Brittany groans in pleasure. She slides her left hand under Brittany's other thigh, pushing upward until Brittany hooks her leg over Santana's shoulder, and literally being pressed between Brittany's thighs is hotter than Santana thought possible.

She can feel Brittany's thighs start to quake either side of her head, and as much as she wants Brittany to come in her mouth, she wants to be staring into Brittany's eyes when she makes her come this time even more, so with a last swipe of her tongue and a suck on her clit, Santana pulls back.

Brittany whines in displeasure, and Santana quickly tries to catch her breath in the second it takes her to move up until she's hovering over Brittany, shifting her weight onto her right elbow and sliding her left hand down the blonde's body.

She runs her fingers through the wetness between Brittany's thighs, coating them before sinking two fingers knuckle deep into Brittany, and she watches as the blonde's head falls back to land on the pillow, mouth dropping open in a silent moan.

God, Brittany is so fucking gorgeous.

Santana pushes her fingers back in, harder this time, and she curls them upwards until she pulls a deep, guttural moan from Brittany, her back arching and nails digging into Santana's shoulders.

Fuck, it's so hot seeing her lose control like this.

Brittany groans again, her hips beginning to roll up to meet the deep thrusts, and Santana drops her head to the blonde's heaving chest, peppering kisses all over her boobs and sucking gently on the hard nipples.

"Uh, Santana," Brittany moans out at the next thrust when Santana angles her fingers differently, and Santana squeezes her own thighs together in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ache burning between her legs.

She feels Brittany start to clench around her fingers again, then nails are scratching up her back to her hair, and Brittany's pulling her down into a messy kiss. The kiss turns into just gasping against each other's mouths when Santana adds a third finger, thrusting as deep as she can and curling her fingers until she's repeatedly hitting _that_ spot, and Brittany's squeaking in pleasure, her entire body shaking and her nails digging into Santana's shoulders.

"Fucking, oh my _God_, I'm so, _uh_, I'm so close San," Brittany manages to get out, although the words are panted around a series of low groans.

Santana smirks, dropping her head to suck on Brittany's pulse point as she pushes her fingers back in, and instead of pulling out, she keeps them there, rubbing against the part deep inside Brittany that's making her walls clamp down. She angles her thumb and rolls it over Brittany's clit, rubbing hard and fast, nipping at Brittany's neck before kissing up to her ear, sucking on her earlobe and whispering a few choice dirty words into it.

It doesn't take long for Brittany to tumble over the edge a second time, her body writhing beneath Santana's and her hooded dark blue eyes locked onto Santana's as she falls apart again.

/

Wile waiting for her to recover, Santana peppers kisses across Brittany's heaving chest, then along her collarbone and up her neck, before kissing her cheeks, and her nose, then, once Brittany's managed to catch her breath, finally pressing her lips against Brittany's.

She feels Brittany smile into the kiss, and opens her mouth to let Brittany push her tongue in, and the blonde kisses her softly for a few minutes, before pulling back and smiling reverently up at her.

The smile then turns into a smirk, and Brittany raises her head to whisper in Santana's ear. "My turn."

Santana bites back a moan at the implication, and now that she's not preoccupied with getting Brittany to come, the full force of her arousal hits her like a steam train and she realizes just how wet and turned on she is.

Jesus Christ she's going to die.

Brittany flips them over, nudging Santana's legs apart with her knees, and leans forward, hooking her fingers into the waistband of Santana's underwear, and dragging them down her legs. She throws them behind her, and her eyes drop to between Santana's thighs, and the way blue eyes are staring down at her hungrily is not helping the butterflies in her stomach or the throbbing between her legs.

Santana gulps, and it must be audible since Brittany's eyes flick up to stare heatedly into Santana's.

A smirk that just makes Santana even wetter spreads over her face, and she falls forward onto all fours, crawling up until her knees are pressed against Santana's thighs, and her hands are resting either side of Santana's shoulders.

Brittany moves lower, pressing kisses against the quivering skin of Santana's stomach, tracing her tongue along the flat planes of her abs and dipping it into her belly button.

Santana's back arches, and she moans quietly when Brittany's nails drag lightly down her sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

When Brittany finally settles between her legs, Santana has almost gone crazy with desire. She can barely think straight; all she can feel is Brittany's fingertips lightly touching her, and Brittany's breath lightly hitting her, and the incessant throbbing in her chest and in between her legs.

Brittany tosses Santana's right leg over her shoulder, and starts dusting soft kisses over the flesh, the thumb on her right hand moving to rub circles into the patch of skin in the crease at the top of Santana's thigh.

She whimpers, and tries to move her hips to the left, cause Brittany's fingers are _right fucking there_, but Brittany has a tight grip on her hips, and she can't move. She moves her own hands to tangle in Brittany's hair, tugging slightly and hoping Brittany will finally relieve the ache that's been building in her for most of the night.

She doesn't care what Brittany does to her, if it's her tongue, her fingers, whatever, the desperate need to get off is hitting her now and it's hitting her _hard._

"Santana," Brittany breathes out, right against her sex, and Santana opens her eyes, looking down her body, and holy hell she's not prepared for how hot the image of Brittany's head between her legs is.

But that thought, along with any others, leap straight out of her mind the moment Brittany leans forward and licks a broad stroke through her with the flat of her tongue.

Santana moans in relief, her neck arching as the back of her head thumps against the pillow, and Brittany licks at her again, opening her mouth wider and stroking her tongue all the way from the bottom right up to her clit. Lips wrap perfectly around it and suck gently, before Brittany starts flicking at it with her tongue as well.

Jesus fucking Christ. She was right, she is going to die.

Her nails are probably digging into Brittany's scalp too hard, but she can't bring herself to care, not when Brittany's soft wet tongue is sliding through her drenched folds, lapping at the wetness, sucking on her clit and pushing her tongue ever so slightly against her entrance.

Santana moans loudly, her hips rolling up, her entire body flooding with pleasure.

She whimpers out a desperate _inside, please _and she feels Brittany smirk against her before the blonde's tongue plunges into her. Santana's legs are shaking, and her stomach's clenching, and her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and she's probably moaning loud enough for Brittany's neighbors to hear her, but she doesn't give a shit about anything other than how fucking good Brittany's tongue feels thrusting inside her.

Brittany moans, the sound vibrating against her clit and Santana lets out a strangled groan, rocking her hips up shamelessly into Brittany's face. She opens her mouth and a string of swear words come out, and she grips her fingers harder against Brittany's head.

"Uh, don't stop, _fuck_ please don't stop," she moans out, and Brittany half-ignores her, pulling her tongue out but moving up to suck on her clit again. She pulls back with an obscene wet smacking noise, and Santana glances down to find Brittany staring right up at her, half her face shiny from Santana's arousal.

"God, it's so fucking hot when you moan like that," Brittany smirks, before diving back in and sucking her clit into her mouth again. Santana groans, flinging her head back and moving one of her hand's off Brittany's head and moving it towards her hip, trying to get a hold of Brittany's hand. Brittany's left hand moves from its position on Santana's thigh to slide their fingers together, gripping tightly as Brittany doubles her efforts with her tongue, pushing it back inside Santana and humming quietly.

Santana's so fucking close, it's not gonna take a lot to push her over the edge, and she announces as much to Brittany, loudly gasping about how close she is. Brittany squeezes at her fingers until Santana looks back down, and she struggles to keep her eyes open and locked on dark blue eyes shining with lust and love, as Brittany flicks at her clit once, then twice, then on the third time she's coming with a long, loud moan.

Brittany keeps licking at her softly, bringing her down from her high, and Santana is definitely not prepared for feeling the blonde's fingers start to slide through her folds. Not that she minds very much, especially not when she's still incredibly wet and Brittany easily slides a finger into her. She's almost too sensitive, and Brittany's fingers are prolonging the sparks of pleasure, but she moans shamelessly, spreading her legs wider and bucking her hips up into the touch.

Whimpering, Santana squirms as Brittany slowly starts thrusting her fingers into her, adding a second one and moving up her body, kissing and licking and sucking and biting at every patch of skin her lips come into contact with. Lips suck kisses onto her stomach and over her hipbones, a tongue slides up between her breasts and teeth graze across her nipples.

When Brittany eventually appears above Santana, lowering her head to kiss and suck at her jaw and her throat, Santana slides her arms around her back, holding tightly onto her as she picks up the pace, pounding her fingers into Santana and curling up until she's seeing stars.

Brittany's fingers are so fucking long, pushing in to the hilt, and they're pressing into her and filling her up perfectly, making her throw her head back against the pillow and whimper Brittany's name, her back arching off the bed.

Her thumb starts brushing against Santana's clit, circling and rubbing against it, until Santana can hardly breathe, panting and moaning and gasping heavily. Their skin is sticking together with the sweat, Brittany's naked chest sliding deliciously against her own and everything's just adding to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

Heat is flaring up through her body, and the pressure low in her stomach is getting tighter and tighter, and then Brittany's curling her fingers in just the right way, brushing her thumb over her clit and sucking on her neck, and Santana comes for the second time, her vision going hazy and her entire body quaking and trembling, gasping Brittany's name amidst a few swear words.

"It's so hot when you swear like that," Brittany murmurs against the skin of her neck, still pumping her fingers slowly into Santana. Santana can barely hear her over the blood rushing through her ears, and she lets out a tiny groan when Brittany eventually removes her fingers, and judging from the wet sucking noises, Brittany's licking her fingers clean.

She would look, cause hello, fucking hot as hell, but that would just fire her up again, and she's not entirely sure she can move right now.

Brittany collapses on top of her, her head on Santana's chest, and Santana lies there with Brittany draped over her, panting heavily and trying to catch her breath.

/

"Dear sweet fucking God."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow."

Santana blinks open her eyes when she feels Brittany's breath puff against her chest, before the blonde heaves herself up onto her arms, hovering over Santana and smiling down at her. Her hair is a _mess_, her lips are bright red and swollen, her cheeks are flushed pink, and her neck and chest are covered with little bruises and hickeys.

Santana's having trouble trying to figure out where post-sex-Brittany goes on her hotness meter. It's hotter than lounging-around-in-sweatpants-Brittany, but below in-the-midst-of-a-Santana-induced-orgasm-Brittany. Maybe on the same level as Brittany-in-suspenders.

"Can we just have sex all the time now?" Brittany asks brightly, and Santana laughs, lifting a hand to stroke over Brittany's cheekbone. "I mean, I'm a fan of sex and I'm a fan of you being naked all the time, so those two together would be like, the greatest thing ever."

Santana starts counting how many horizontal surfaces she's seen in Brittany's apartment so far, intending to fuck Brittany on each one of them.

"I'm serious, that was amazing Santana," she adds on, ducking her head with a cute little grin, and really, it's ridiculous how she can go from being insanely fucking hot to adorably shy in less than a second.

"That sounds like a great idea," Santana laughs, before threading her hands into Brittany's hair and pulling her down for a kiss. She flicks her tongue into Brittany's mouth, kissing her slowly and deeply, and Brittany sighs into her mouth, settling her weight on top of Santana carefully.

The intoxicating rush that hits Santana from being surrounded by Brittany's warmth and scent, with her tongue languidly brushing against Santana's and her hands stroking circles into Santana's hips makes her want to stay like this forever. She doesn't think she's ever been so happy.

However, since sex with Brittany appears to be like a fucking marathon, the exhaustion kicks in pretty soon, and Santana breaks the kiss to yawn, her eyes fluttering as she struggles to keep them open just to look at Brittany.

Brittany shifts off to the side and collapses facedown on the bed, and Santana barely has time to react before an arm is being flung across her waist and Brittany's half draped over her again, cuddling into her side and nuzzling against her neck.

"Sleep time," she mumbles, her lips brushing distractingly against Santana's throat.

Santana sighs contentedly, wrapping her arms around Brittany's body and holding her tighter against her. She turns her head to the side to press a kiss against Brittany's slightly sweaty forehead, and Brittany kisses her on the neck in reply, her arm tightening around Santana's waist. Santana lets one of her hands drift down Brittany's back, over the dimples at the bottom and across the dip in her spine, before reaching Brittany's hip, stroking softly at the skin there.

A few minutes later she's still awake, just lying with her eyes closed and listening to Brittany's steady breathing, and feeling her body expand against her own as she breathes and the puffs of air hitting her neck gently. Brittany mumbles something incoherent in her sleep, and Santana smiles, looking down at the blonde.

Every other time after sex, Santana didn't really feel anything, except maybe empty. Either the other girl would have barely caught her breath before Santana was yanking her clothes back on and heading out the door with a smile tossed over her shoulder, or Santana would fall asleep – no cuddling – and then just leave the following morning before the other girl woke up.

She shouldn't really be surprised since this is Brittany, and she doesn't think the blonde will ever stop surprising her in the best ways possible, but Santana has never felt so comfortable and safe snuggled up to Brittany, their legs tangled together under the pink sheet – that was apparently originally white, but Sam put them into the washing machine with a red sock and proceeded to give Brittany's bedcovers a makeover – and the entire lengths of their bodies pressed together.

Santana really has no idea how she got so lucky, that Brittany, that this amazing, beautiful, perfect angel is falling in love with _her_. No idea at all.

She's absent-mindedly tracing her fingers over the ridges of Brittany's hipbones, and the blonde stirs slightly under the touch, so she stops the movements, instead cuddling closer to Brittany and shutting her eyes, unable to stop the silly smile pulling at her lips as she drifts off to sleep holding Brittany in her arms.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

So I hear some of you wanted an update... :p

Before I apologise profusely/explain the wait, I would like to mention one or two things, and I'd appreciate it if you took the time to read this AN :)

Firstly, Paperweight is not, and never will be abandoned. I fully intend to see this fic through to the very end (I have a mushy, fluffy, smutty epilogue planned :D), and if, for some reason, I did unfortunately have to stop writing, I would let all of you know via here, Twitter and Tumblr.

Second of all, if you have questions about PW/my fic/anything really, I much prefer you going to my ask fm account (there's a link in my bio) rather than asking me anonymously on Tumblr. If you ask me OFF anon, I'll happily answer, if you're anon, it's unlikely I'll reply. No offence or anything, just a personal preference, and slight paranoia my rl friends will find my Tumblr and therefore my fic.

Right, onto the grovelling. I cannot apologise enough for how long this has taken, but as it's Summer (like, actual Summer! We got sun! Do you know how rare that is for Scotland? :D) here, all of my rl friends are home from uni, so I've been busy with them a lot, plus I've been away a bit, aaand I have a job, all of which cuts into my writing time. Throw in a bit of writer's block for certain parts of this chapter, and that all makes for a very long wait.

I'm going on holiday with my family on September 10th so I will tryyyy and get another chapter out before then, but please don't hold me to that lol.

Thank you for all your sweet reviews, PMs asking if I'm still alive etc, and I hope this chapter has been worth the wait :)

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It's a wonderful feeling, one that Santana rarely gets to experience, waking up to silence. Well, New York's loud version of silence.

99 per cent of the time, Quinn wakes up before her, and seems to think breakfast is synonymous with _time to wake Santana up in the most annoyingly loud way possible_. Whether it's by having the radio blaring the latest obscure indie band she's obsessed with, singing in the shower, or banging around loudly in the kitchen, Santana usually wakes up to some form of racket echoing around the apartment.

And if it's not any of those, it's usually Rachel, and sometimes Kurt, using her apartment for a two-person Glee Club reunion. There is a time and a place for Cell Block Tango, and that time is never before noon and that place is never Santana's apartment.

So for the next few seconds, Santana just relishes the silence and snuggles further into the bed, before she realizes exactly whose bed she's in, and the entire previous night comes crashing back to her.

Her heartbeat picks up, and a massive smile breaks out involuntarily on her face. She hopes Brittany isn't like, watching her sleep or something, cause she's probably going to look insane suddenly grinning like a madwoman in her sleep.

She brings her hand up to rub at her eyes as she sleepily blinks them open, rolling over to look for Brittany when it registers in her half-functioning brain that she doesn't feel the blonde's warmth wrapped around her.

The dorky smile drops off her face to be replaced by a frown when she realizes she's alone. There's a brief moment where she thinks karma's come around to bite her in her perfectly toned ass and that Brittany's left, but that thought is immediately shut down by two things. First of all, she's in _Brittany's_ apartment. It's not like the blonde can do a runner from her own home. Secondly, now that Santana's more awake, she can hear faint music and singing coming from the other side of the closed door, indicating that she's not alone in the apartment.

If Brittany's making breakfast for her she may just propose marriage on the spot.

She rolls over again to lie on her back, stretching out her limbs and yawning, rubbing the rest of the sleep out of her eyes. Sunlight is just starting to filter in through the curtains, and a glance over at Brittany's Adventure Time clock tells her it's just after 9am.

She lies there for a few more minutes, an idiotic smile on her face as she replays the entirety of last night in her mind. The whole room, and the sheets she's wrapped in both smell of Brittany and of sex. Adding in that Brittany's bed is really fucking comfy, Santana wouldn't mind staying right here the rest of the weekend.

Especially if Brittany were to join her. Naked.

Untangling herself from the sheets, Santana swings her legs over the side of the bed, deciding to actually get up and go find Brittany. The cool air hits Santana's still-warm bare skin, and she shivers, walking over to Brittany's dresser and opening the top drawer, looking for some clothes to throw on.

After pulling some too-big red sweatpants and a white tank top on, Santana pushes open the bedroom door, immediately finding the source of the music she heard earlier as the radio playing quietly, while Brittany's standing at the kitchen counter, humming and wiggling her hips to the song playing.

Santana's mouth goes dry when she notices Brittany isn't wearing pants, just a long tshirt that barely covers her ass, and she folds her arms, leaning against the doorway as she drags her gaze up Brittany's legs, a flush shooting through her body when she remembers having those same legs wrapped around her the previous night.

She watches Brittany take a gulp out of her mug of what Santana assumes is coffee, judging by the aroma around the apartment, and stretch up to open a cupboard above her, the tshirt riding up and revealing the red underwear she's wearing.

She has a passing thought about what it would be like to wake up to this everyday, to the smell of coffee, the radio quietly playing some, probably British, indie band she's unlikely to have ever heard of, to Brittany. Either Brittany dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, or Brittany still asleep and cuddled up to Santana like a puppy dog, Santana's not really picky about the where of Brittany, just as long as she's there.

It's a very… domestic thought, and it doesn't scare Santana as much as she thought it would.

Deciding she's creepily stared at Brittany long enough, Santana pushes off the doorframe, and is intending on walking straight to the kitchen to kiss Brittany good morning, when something on the floor by the sofa catches her eye.

She bends down and picks up the DVD case from last night, holding in a laugh when she sees the name of the movie, and the picture of a blood-covered chainsaw on the front of it.

"Raw Fear?" Santana questions, raising an eyebrow at the cheesy name and holding up the case when Brittany spins round. "Well now I see why you didn't tell me the name."

"There's a sequel," Brittany replies with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a suggestive smirk. Her face lights up and a massive grin spreads across her face as she turns fully around, and Santana can't help but smile back, the reverent way the blonde is looking at her hitting her right in the heart.

"I could be persuaded to watch it," Santana laughs, dropping the case back onto the sofa and walking towards the kitchen.

She would happily watch – or not watch – the sequel, followed by any other horror movie Brittany wants as long as they all end up the way last night did.

Brittany smiles at her like she knows exactly what Santana's thinking, putting the whisk she's holding down and wrapping her arms around Santana's waist when she gets close enough. Santana leans up and presses a quick kiss to Brittany's lips, and is about to peek over her shoulder to see what Brittany's doing, when a hand cups her cheek, pulling her back into another slow kiss that ends with the blonde softly sucking at her bottom lip.

"Mmm, good morning," Santana mumbles when Brittany lets her go after a few minutes.

"Hi," Brittany smiles back, leaning against the counter and her eyes dropping to where the tank top is stretched tightly over Santana's boobs. "I like you wearing my clothes."

She bites her bottom lip as her gaze rakes shamelessly over Santana's body, and Santana swallows a moan at the heated look. She has no problems with spending the entire day having sex with Brittany, but she is kind of hungry, and with coffee being the most important meal of the day, she needs her caffeine fix first of all.

Santana loops her arms around Brittany's neck, leaning forward and pressing her body against the blonde's, giving her another kiss before disentangling herself and stepping away.

Brittany pouts at her, and she laughs, turning around and walking to the cupboard where the mugs are, picking up a blue one with a picture of a sheep on it and then making her way to the coffee machine.

"So what was so important that you had to get up early and leave me alone in your bed?" Santana asks, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine before turning back around to face Brittany, leaning back against the counter.

Brittany's eyes rake over her body again, causing Santana to shiver, before Brittany smiles sheepishly at being caught leering, and gestures a glass bowl sitting on the kitchen counter. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, but you've kinda ruined that now."

"Sorry?" Santana fires what she hopes is her most charming smile at the blonde. The coffee machine beeps behind her, and she reaches round to pick up the mug, taking a sip of the hot liquid and pushing off the counter to walk back over to Brittany.

"You should be," Brittany shakes her head in mock disappointment. _So, so cute. _"Ruining my surprise, what kind of person are you?"

"One that made you scream pretty loud last night," Santana shoots back with a smirk, smiling wider and laughing when Brittany flushes, and shoves at her shoulder lightly.

"Shut up," she mumbles, ducking her head to try and hide her blush and turning back around to face the counter.

Placing her mug down, Santana slides her arms around Brittany's middle and cuddles into her from behind, rising up on her tiptoes and resting her head on her shoulder. Peering down, she's met with the sight of apparently the entire contents of a baking shop spread over the kitchen counter. There's also two boxes, one of strawberries and one of blueberries sitting off to the side, as well as an obscenely large tub of Nutella.

She watches Brittany adding what looks like beaten eggs to a bowl full of flour, before pouring in an entire bag of chocolate chips and some sugar. Healthy. Apparently Brittany's serving a heart attack for breakfast.

"What are you making?" Santana asks, slowly sliding her hands under Brittany's top to press her palms against the warm skin of her stomach. She smirks when she feels the muscles twitch slightly, and hears Brittany's breath hitch lightly. She has her coffee, the food can totally wait.

"I'm making waffles," Brittany replies, twisting her head to press a kiss to Santana's cheek. "Now please get off me, you're distracting me."

Well.

Brittany nudges at her with a spoon when she doesn't move, and Santana reluctantly lets go of her, stealing a strawberry and hoisting herself onto a stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. She munches on the fruit and sips on her coffee, watching Brittany make breakfast.

She's too busy caught up in dreamily staring at Brittany and drowning in how right and domestic this morning feels, that Brittany has to repeat her name three times before Santana finally blinks out of her trance and says, "Sorry, what?"

Brittany laughs, walking over to the breakfast bar and sitting on the stool opposite her, placing down two plates. "I said, what are you thinking about? You had this really dopey smile on your face. Cute, but dopey. I was beginning to get worried."

"Just," Santana pauses, trying to figure out how to phrase the way she feels. "I'm just, really happy Britt."

Brittany smiles, blushing slightly, and extends her hand across the bar and links their fingers together, rubbing her thumb gently against the back of Santana's hand. "Yeah, so am I."

/

An hour later, after Santana has inhaled firsts and seconds of Brittany's amazing waffles topped with strawberries, Nutella and whipped cream, she helps Brittany clean up the dishes before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

When Santana exits the bathroom, Brittany's back is to her while she looks for something in the depths of the refrigerator. The song playing on the radio has changed again, to some acoustic song Santana recognizes but can't remember the name of, and Brittany's humming along to it, swaying her hips slightly, even though the song is like the furthest thing from a dance-y song you can get.

"I've been this way with so many before but this feels like the first time," Brittany starts singing along to the song a few lines in, and Santana leans against the counter, smiling stupidly at the blonde.

Santana eventually identifies the song as one from that movie Kurt dragged her to see, with Amanda whatsherface and Channing Tatum's abs, but instantly decides she prefers Brittany's version of it. She's heard Brittany sing before, but with this song being slower, her voice is quieter and sweeter, and Santana could happily listen to it forever.

"You want the sunrise to go back to bed," Brittany stands up and spins around, nudging the refrigerator closed with her hips, and her face lights up when notices Santana smiling at her.

"I wanna make you _laaaugh_," Brittany dramatically sings, carrying out the last note and placing the smoothie bottle she's taken out of the fridge on the counter, extending her arms and beckoning Santana to come and join her.

"Mess up my bed, with me," Brittany sings, wiggling her eyebrows. "Kick off the covers, I'm waiting."

The choice of whether or not Santana's going to join in is kind of taken away from her when Brittany dramatically and meaningfully gestures in her direction, followed by the pout thrown her way when Santana misses the start of the next line.

Really, turning breakfast into a musical experience, this is the kind of shit she used to make fun of Rachel and Kurt for doing, especially after one particularly loud duet of As Long As You're Mine from Wicked at some ungodly hour a few weeks ago.

But it's basically near impossible to resist Brittany's pouting, so Santana sighs, crossing the kitchen and taking Brittany's hands, letting herself be pulled into the blonde's warm embrace, before starting to sing along with the second verse.

"Happy to lay here, just happy to be here, I'm happy to know you." Thankfully Santana can remember the words, since the smile that lights up Brittany's face is pretty damn gorgeous.

"Play me a song, your newest one, please leave your taste on my tongue. Paperweight on my back, cover me like a blanket."

Santana disentangles her hands from Brittany's, instead looping her arms around her shoulders and pulling Brittany's body closer to her own, the blonde's hands wrapping around her waist.

"Mess up my bed, with me. Kick off the covers, I'm waiting. Every word you say, I think I should write down. I don't wanna forget come daylight."

Brittany starts swaying them, then starts leading Santana in small circles around the kitchen, and Santana shuts up, letting Brittany sing the next part of the song and getting lost in her sweet voice softly singing along.

"And no need to worry, that's wasting time. And no need to wonder, what's been on my mind," Brittany presses on her back, pulling Santana closer until they're completely pressed together. Santana rests her chin on the blonde's shoulder, a shiver going down her spine when Brittany's lips brush against her ear before she continues with the song.

"It's you, it's you, it's you," Brittany hums quietly into her ear, kissing her softly just below her ear after. Santana's breath catches in her throat, and she hugs Brittany tighter, trying to get as close as possible as the song plays on in the background.

The song fades out, being replaced by another slow acoustic song; one that Santana doesn't recognize this time. She pulls back from Brittany, just enough so that she can look up at her pretty face.

"Well, that was sweet," Brittany says, breaking the silence with the understatement of the decade.

"You're sweet," Santana replies softly, patting herself on the back for the smile she gets in reward for that cheesy smooth line.

"I'm sweet on you," Brittany chuckles, smiling down at her.

"You're crazy," Santana laughs, unwrapping her hands from around Brittany's neck to cup her face, pulling her closer to kiss her.

"Mmm," Brittany mumbles into the kiss, smiling against Santana's lips. "Crazy about you," she counters, swallowing Santana's laugh when she presses their lips together again.

Santana sighs into the kiss, running her hands up Brittany's back and tangling them in her hair, letting herself be walked backward when Brittany presses harder against her until her back hits the counter.

The kiss sparks hotter in a matter of seconds when Brittany's tongue pushes past her lips, languidly stroking against her own. Brittany's hands slide lower and lower, before pushing past the band of the sweatpants and stroking over the bare skin of her ass, and what's crazy is how fast Brittany can make her switch from wanting to just kiss Brittany to wanting to kiss Brittany _everywhere._

She has no idea how Brittany does it, the simplest touch causing her head to spin, her heart to pound harder and her arousal to rocket upwards.

"I love kissing you," Brittany mutters into the kiss, her hands squeezing at Santana's ass before tracing up her sides, across her shoulders and cupping Santana's face.

Santana nearly has a heart attack at the word love, but manages to keep herself somewhat composed.

She opens her eyes to meet Brittany's dark blue ones boring into her own, and her heart starts pounding, warmth flooding through her body and making her forget everything except the way Brittany's body fits so perfectly against her own.

Santana finds it so much easier to express her feelings through physical touch than through words, so instead of saying anything in reply, and risking saying the wrong thing, or messing something up, she just kisses her again, losing herself in Brittany's lips and tongue and taste.

/

"Fuck," Santana whines, her head falling back against the back of the couch with a thud, her fingers tightening in blonde hair as Brittany's tongue circles her clit far too fucking slowly for Santana's liking. – sdf

"You taste so good," Brittany mumbles, moaning quietly, and the vibrations shoot straight through Santana.

"Ugh, _Brittany_," she moans, and she would be slightly embarrassed about how desperate she already is, but it's been like twenty fucking minutes since Brittany shoved her down onto the couch, dropped to her knees, yanked Santana's thighs over her shoulders and went to town, so Santana feels like she's in danger of literally exploding soon.

Like seriously, teasing is hot as hell, but to a fucking extent, Jesus.

Plus Santana's lost count of what round of hot, sweaty sex this is – Brittany pinning her against the counter earlier led to fucking on the kitchen floor, and when Brittany complained about her back being sore due to the tiles, they just moved to the couch, then Brittany's bed, then the shower when Santana suggested a clean-up, and then back to the couch – so she's really fucking sensitive right now and Brittany fucking knows it.

She can feel Brittany smirk against her, moving off her clit to slide her tongue up and down through her soaked center, and she glances down, the sight of Brittany's head bobbing between her legs sending another flash of heat through her body.

Brittany looks up and meets her gaze, the heated dark blue eyes coupled with the sight of her wetness smeared all over Brittany's lips and chin making her stomach clench hard.

Santana starts to moans Brittany's name again, but only gets one syllable in before she gets cut off, throwing her head back with a loud moan of relief when Brittany finally slides her tongue in, her mind going blank and her hips jerking up against the blonde's face.

She's embarrassingly close already, the twenty minutes of too much teasing and not enough pleasing having taken its toll, and Santana spreads her legs wider, one leg falling off Brittany's shoulder. Brittany's hand trails from its position on Santana's waist to the inside of her thigh, scratching up it gently, and Santana is about to huff in protest when Brittany's tongue vanishes, but a strangled moan escapes instead when two fingers slide inside her.

"Fuck- oh God Britt," she gasps, her hips rocking up shamelessly as she tugs lightly on Brittany's hair, pushing her face closer. Lips wrap around her clit, sucking hard, and Santana can feel herself getting closer.

Brittany curls her fingers at the same time she starts flicking at her clit with her tongue, and it doesn't take long before she's coming hard against Brittany's mouth with a loud moan, pleasure surging through her entire body.

Fingers keep slowly sliding in and out of her, bringing her down until it gets too much and Santana weakly bats at Brittany's shoulders, pushing her away gently. Brittany places a final kiss onto her clit, pulls back, removes her fingers, and glances up at Santana with a smirk before sucking her own fingers into her mouth. Dear God Brittany is going to kill her.

"Jesus Christ," she breathes out unsteadily, smiling dopily down at Brittany as the blondes starts peppering kisses along the inside of her thighs. "You are so amazing."

Brittany shrugs nonchalantly, smiling up at Santana as she clambers into her lap. "I know," she says with a grin, smiling wider as she wraps her arms around Santana's shoulders, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together.

"So modest, too," Santana teases, her own hands sliding round to clasp at the small of Brittany's back. "Not that I really blame you, of course," she adds, smiling into the kiss that Brittany presses against her lips.

Brittany kisses her harder in response, parting her lips with her tongue, and Santana groans when she tastes herself. The blonde's tongue brushes gently against her own, and Brittany whimpers into her mouth when Santana sucks on her tongue, her hands drifting down Brittany's back to squeeze at her ass.

Santana would be more than happy to listen to the devil on her shoulder that sounds exactly like her own voice whispering _more sex more sex more sex_, but Brittany's kisses are slowing down, her lips brushing against Santana's and her hands gently cupping the back of Santana's neck, thumbs tracing patterns into the skin. She leans back, quickly breaking the kiss to yawn, and Santana can't help but laugh at the embarrassed look on Brittany's flushed face.

"Tired?"

"Well somebody has kind of worn me out," Brittany replies, squirming when Santana attacks the top of her chest with kisses, running the tips of her fingers up and down her sides lightly.

Ooh, so Brittany's ticklish. Santana files that away for use at a later date.

Plus, Brittany kind of has a point, considering it's nearly 3pm and they've spent the last few hours having a _lot_ of sex, only taking a break to have lunch. Santana has a shitload of stamina, but she isn't invincible.

Leaning back against the couch, Santana presses on Brittany's back until she's pitching forward, her hands reaching out to grab the back of the sofa at either side of Santana's head. Smiling softly down at her, Brittany drops her head to kiss Santana lazily, tongue brushing tenderly across her lower lip.

Santana's hands squeeze at Brittany's hips when her tongue pushes past her lips and against her own, and Brittany whimpers quietly into her mouth. They should probably stop now, since kissing while Brittany's in her lap is highly likely to lead to them getting all fired up again, which in turn will lead to yet another round of, admittedly mind-blowing sex, but Brittany's breaking the kiss to yawn again, so she's obviously pretty tired. Plus, Santana's not going to pass up a chance for cuddling.

"Nap?" She suggests, moving her hands up Brittany's back and away from the tempting curve of her ass.

"Can I use you as a pillow?" Brittany asks brightly, blue eyes looking down at her affectionately.

Santana smiles like an idiot. _Score_. "I'd be honoured."

Santana shuffles round, and flops back so she's lying lengthways across the couch, and Brittany settles down next to her, resting her head on her chest and wrapping an arm across her waist. Santana slides an arm around Brittany's shoulders, sighing in contentment when she feels Brittany gently nuzzle at her neck before pressing a quick kiss there, before snuggling back against her.

"When Quinn's not home we should totally christen every room in your apartment." Brittany's sleepy voice comes out slightly muffled where she's cuddled against Santana's chest, but her words are still audible and Santana giggles, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"Definitely," she mumbles in reply, kissing the top of Brittany's head and hugging her tighter, before pressing her cheek against soft blonde hair, and drifting off into a peaceful sleep to the sound of Brittany's breathing.

/

Santana has no idea what time she wakes up, but she knows she's being dragged back into consciousness by lips pressing to her neck and Brittany softly mumbling her name against her skin.

"Santanaaaa," she hears, Brittany dragging out the last syllable of her name as she dusts kisses up towards her ear. "Wake up sweetheart."

She's considering feigning sleep just so Brittany keeps doing this, but that idea is shot when Brittany speaks again. "I know you're awake."

Santana blinks her eyes open, her heart skipping a beat at the dreamy way Brittany's looking down at her. "How did you know?"

"Your breathing changed. Plus you started smiling."

"I could have been having a really good dream, you never know," Santana shoots back, lifting a hand to push her hair out of her face, and when she focuses properly on the blonde on top of her, she realizes they're both still completely naked after Brittany sex-ambushed her earlier.

Brittany's knees are either side of her hips and Brittany's boobs are teasingly brushing against her own as the blonde hovers over her, and heat floods through her body.

Not wasting any time, she cups the back of Brittany's neck and pulls her down into a kiss, sucking at her bottom lip until Brittany opens her mouth wider, kissing her languidly. Santana's hands slowly start moving down Brittany's back, and start curving round to the front of Brittany's body, but before they can reach their intended destination, the blonde breaks the kiss and sits up.

There's a slight flush painted over her chest, her blonde hair is slightly messy from Santana's hands in it earlier and from their little nap, and she's looking down at Santana with her sparkling blue eyes. Add in the fact that she's still totally naked, her boobs and abs and everything else completely on show in the late afternoon light coming through the windows, it all makes for a pretty impressive sight that takes Santana's breath away.

"You're so gorgeous," she breathes out without thinking, her hands resting on the top of Brittany's thighs and her thumbs rubbing gently at them.

Brittany ducks her head, smiling bashfully. "You're not too bad yourself," she replies with a wink, before swinging her leg over Santana's body onto the floor and standing up.

She extends a hand down, and Santana grabs hold, letting herself be pulled up. Brittany then leads them towards the bedroom, and a gleeful smile lights up Santana's face. Their impromptu nap has totally replenished her energy, so she's perfectly happy spending the rest of the day fucking into next week.

"Again? Jesus woman, you have got a one track mind," she says, slightly distracted by the view of Brittany's bare ass in front of her.

"Get your mind out the gutter Santana, we're going out, so we need to get dressed."

Well. Talk about putting a dampener on her sex drive.

"Wait, we are?"

"Yep," Brittany says, letting go of Santana's hand when they get into her bedroom, heading over towards the drawers. Santana flops onto Brittany's bed, making sure everything is on display to try and tempt Brittany away from putting clothes back on.

"Why?" Santana looks on in horror as Brittany puts some underwear on before flinging open her closet door.

"Because we have literally spent the entire day having sex and napping," Brittany says, her back to Santana as she rifles through her closet.

"I'm really not seeing a bad side to that," Santana replies from where she's sprawled out on Brittany's bed, feeling very conflicted as she leers at Brittany's body, cause her boobs look amazing in the bra she's just put on, but all the skin is being covered up as Brittany is getting less naked.

"Fresh air is healthy Santana," Brittany says like an overbearing mother. She spins around from the closet and throws a top towards Santana. "That should fit you. I think your jeans are still clean, but I'm not sure where I threw them last night," she adds on with a chuckle.

Santana huffs, watching Brittany pull on some jeans and socks, and then a top with a picture of a moustache on it. She eventually pulls herself off the bed with a dramatic sigh; putting on the panties Brittany gave her, before wandering back through to the living room to pick up her jeans and her bra.

Brittany does kind of have a point, they've been holed up together with no intrusions since the previous evening, and much as Santana would like to, it's not like they can get used to it, considering Sam is due home at some point later on that night.

On the other hand, with them both having blissfully oblivious roommates, it's not like they'll have a lot of opportunities to spend half the day banging each other's brains out and the other half eating and sleeping. Brittany comes out of her room, looking immaculate for someone who'd been asleep less than thirty minutes ago and handing the top she'd picked out earlier to Santana, telling her to hurry up, and Santana voices her thoughts.

"You know, you have an empty apartment, we should totally appreciate it while we can," Brittany raises her eyebrow. "I'm just saying."

"So you're just in this for the sex?" Brittany asks, quirking an eyebrow. "You don't actually like my company, just spending time with me?"

Shit.

"Wait, no, no no no, I didn't mean that all babe," Santana quickly backpedals, shaking her head with widened eyes, then stopping when she sees the way Brittany's fighting a grin. "Oh. You're kidding."

"Yes, I'm kidding. Now come on. I discovered this really nice coffee shop a few blocks from here the other day."

The mention of coffee shop, and therefore food gets Santana's attention, since she's kinda hungry, so she quickly pulls the top over her head, smirking at the way Brittany's eyes zoom in on her chest where the fabric pulls tightly against her boobs, and dashes back into Brittany's zoom, dragging a brush through her hair and fluffing it up. Not that it does much good, she probably still looks like a troll in comparison to Brittany, but oh well.

Ignoring the way Brittany taps at her wrist, even though she's never seen the blonde wear a watch, Santana puts her shoes, and pulls her jacket on, then pauses their way out of the apartment to kiss Brittany, just because she looks adorable in the light grey bobble hat perched on top of her head.

She's considering just kissing Brittany hard and long enough to completely derail the plans of going out, and hopefully have the blonde drag her back to bed and have her way with her, but unfortunately Brittany breaks the kiss, smirking at Santana like she knows exactly what her plans were.

Brittany grabs at Santana's hand, linking their fingers together, and Santana huffs as she's dragged out of the apartment.

/

"I don't know about this Britt," Santana says apprehensively.

"You can do it babe," Brittany says from behind her, placing her hands on Santana's shoulders and nudging her forward. "Step outside your comfort zone."

"Starbucks and I are in a pretty committed relationship. I'm not sure I can go into a different coffee shop in good conscience."

Brittany snorts, and just links their arms together, walking forward and forcing Santana to move her feet, unless she wants to faceplant into the steps leading up to the door. Which she doesn't really.

Brittany pushes the door to Tinderbox Coffee open and pulls Santana in after her, the warm smell of coffee hitting them instantly.

Looking around, Santana notes it's much smaller than her usual Starbucks, and a lot quieter, although that's probably due to the lack of annoying teenage girls flirting with the baristas and ordering low fat Frappucinos, which, in Santana's opinion, is the only negative Starbucks has.

"So, Miss Lopez, what are you having?" Brittany asks as they walk up to the counter. The barista is nowhere to be seen, and there's no queue, so they can probably take their time ordering.

Santana opens her mouth to rattle off her usual Starbucks order, before realizing they're not actually _in_ Starbucks, and looks up at the menu printed along the back wall. Her mouth stays hanging open attractively as she takes in the amount of drinks the place offers. It's like double the amount of Starbucks' and about half the price. Maybe she could be swayed to switch teams.

"Um. What would you recommend?" She's slightly overwhelmed by the choice.

"My favourite is the peppermint hot chocolate, but I think you'd like…" Brittany trails off, thoughtfully looking at the menu. The barista appears in front of them, smiling and saying hello as he adjusts his apron.

"Hello ladies. What can I get you?"

"Could I please have a medium peppermint hot chocolate and a medium white chocolate mocha?" Brittany orders, and the barista picks up two mugs, handing them to his co-worker and passing on the order, before putting the drinks through the till and looking back up at Brittany.

"Anything else?" Brittany shakes her head. "$5.30 please."

Brittany hands him the money and tells him to keep the change, before dropping her hand back to her side and brushing her fingers over the back of Santana's hand. Santana takes the hint and tangles their fingers together, allowing Brittany to drag her over to some comfy looking chairs in the very corner of the coffee shop.

The barista brings their drinks over, and Santana raises her eyebrow at the mountain of marshmallows on top of Brittany's drink. "Well now I understand why you like this place."

"Marshmallows are delicious. Anyway, try your drink, I want to know if you like it."

Santana picks up her mug and takes a sip, then attempts to hold in the porn star moan that threatens to come out, because holy _shit _this is one of the best drinks she's ever tasted.

"Oh my God this is delicious!" She announces, taking another gulp and immediately regretting it when she burns her tongue slightly.

"I told you so," Brittany replies with a triumphant smirk, lifting up her own drink to take a sip. "Better than Starbucks?"

"Whoa, whoa," Santana shoots back immediately, holding her hands up. "Let's not be hasty here. This is great, but Starbucks is pretty tough competition."

Brittany just laughs, smiling dopily at Santana. She takes another sip of her drink, before placing it down and resting her arms on the table, leaning forward slightly and fixing Santana with a look.

"So, I have something to ask you," she starts, pausing to starting playing with the hem of her sleeve. Santana steals one of the marshmallows bobbing about in Brittany's drink, settling back in the seat – Jesus Christ the seats are comfy, she notes, wondering if she could smuggle one back to her own apartment – and smiles at Brittany, indicating for her to continue.

"I was talking to Artie the other day, and he was asking about you." Santana takes a second to try and figure out who the hell Artie is, before remembering him as Brittany's friend from California.

"About me?"

"Just you know, how we are and stuff, and well, he asked me like, what exactly we are…" Santana nearly chokes on the marshmallow, but manages to keep a straight face, swallowing and picking her mug back up.

"And what did you tell him?" Santana has a good idea of where this conversation is going, and she's trying to hide the elated grin threatening to break out over her face. Brittany's obviously incredibly nervous, and it's seriously one of the cutest things she's ever seen.

"See that's the thing, I didn't know what to tell him, so he told me to woman up and ask you."

"Ask me what?" Santana says, her smile getting slightly wider at how adorably flustered Brittany is.

"I want us to be together, San. Like, together together. I want you to be my girlfriend," Brittany says after a pause, still nervously playing with her sleeve as she stares at Santana

"I'm not hearing a question in there, Britt," Santana teases, laughing when Brittany audibly exhales with a huff.

"Shut up," Brittany mumbles, folding her arms across her chest and trying to hide the grin pulling at the sides of her lips by pouting instead.

"I want you to be my girlfriend too, babe," Santana confirms, not even bothering to try and put up a fight to that pout.

"So… We're together?" Brittany asks, the most adorable hopeful look on her face.

"Yes," Santana laughs. "We're together."

"You're my girlfriend," Brittany states, and Santana is mildly concerned about the blonde breaking her jaw if she smiles any wider.

Brittany beams at her, and it's contagious, causing Santana to smile like a madwoman back at her. Confusion takes over when Brittany suddenly shoots out of her seat, rounding the table and nudging at Santana's shoulder until she shuffles over and Brittany can squeeze in next to her.

"Babe this seat isn't big enough-" She gets cut off as Brittany cups her cheeks and lunges in to press their lips together, tongue immediately sliding into her mouth for a kiss that's slightly inappropriate for a coffee shop, but there's only about five other customers in apart from them, and they're relatively hidden by the bar with the napkins and sugar and stuff, so Santana happily returns the kiss, sliding one arm around her girlfriend's shoulders to pull her closer.

Her _girlfriend._

She's kissing her _girlfriend_ for the first time.

_Girlfriend._

/

Brittany thankfully stops kissing her after a few more deep kisses that Santana practically feels in her fucking toes – she says _thankfully_ because if Brittany were to continue kissing her like that, her limited self control would have snapped and she'd have probably done something that would lead to them both getting arrested – and returns to her side of the table, still sporting a humungous grin.

They just sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes; enjoying their drinks and watching New York pass them by out the window on the other side of the room. Santana glances down when feels something on her hands where they're clasped around her mug, and sees Brittany's hand trying to hold onto her own.

With a smile, she lets go of her mug with her right hand and links her fingers with the ones on Brittany's left, shifting her gaze from the window to the blonde opposite her. Concern immediately hits her when she sees the way Brittany's eyebrows are worriedly pulled together as she stares into her hot chocolate.

"You okay?" Santana asks, ducking her head to try and make eye contact.

"Uh, there's something else I want to tell you," Brittany says, squeezing Santana's fingers as if to reassure her. "You probably won't like it, but the key to any relationship is honesty, so…"

Santana's heart skips a beat at the word relationship – she has a girlfriend! – and then she feels mildly worried about what Brittany has to tell her.

"This morning, when I woke up," Brittany starts, lifting her head and glancing around the coffee shop before settling her gaze on Santana. "I didn't know if you'd still be there or not."

Santana's breath hitches, and she gulps. Her elated mood has suddenly come to a screeching halt t Brittany's quiet words.

"I'm sorry, I must sound like a total bitch. There was just this tiny piece of me that was scared you'd get scared and run."

At hearing the blonde apologize, as if it's her fault, Santana shakes her head and finally remembers how to talk like a normal human being.

"No, you don't have to apologize Britt," she reassures, reaching across the table to grab Brittany's other hand. "I-" She pauses to swallow. "I can't promise I won't get scared. This is the first real relationship I've been in, but I don't want to fuck anything up. I care about you so much, the thought of losing you now, just…"

There's a lump in her throat that prevents her from continuing, but the soft smile she gets from Brittany makes her think the blonde knew exactly what she meant.

"Well I don't plan on going anywhere," Brittany says, her gaze dropping to look at where their hands are clasped together on the table, and she manoeuvres her hands until she can gently rub over Santana's knuckles with her thumbs. "But, if you do get scared, please tell me. Just talk to me, and I'll help you as best I can."

"Thank you," Santana says softly, letting go of one of Brittany's hands and picking up her mug, taking a sip of the still warm liquid.

"Well I'm your girlfriend, it's what girlfriends do. They help each other not be scared. They help each other be the best versions of themselves they can be."

It still floors Santana sometimes, that Brittany is with her. That she's the one that Brittany's looking at like she's the best person to have ever existed, that she's the one to make Brittany smile like that, that she's the one to see Brittany at her most vulnerable.

Her feelings for the blonde in front of her start to overwhelm her slightly, and she has to break eye contact for a moment, looking down at her drink rather than the way blue eyes are staring at her, before raising her head and speaking again.

"You're amazing," she says, feeling slightly breathless.

Brittany gives a one shouldered shrug, smirking while she picks up her own mug. "Yeah, I know I am."

Santana really has no idea how she got so lucky.

/

They walk back to Brittany's apartment slowly, linked hands swinging idly between them, chatting about nothing and everything. Brittany asks if she's staying for dinner, Santana says yes, and after a heated debate about pizza versus Thai food, Santana gives in to Brittany's Super Pout and lets herself be dragged into a pizza takeaway. Santana insists on paying, and wins this debate when she literally barges in front of Brittany to hand the cashier the money.

When they get back to the apartment, Brittany walks in first, placing the pizza boxes down on the side table, and it takes the grand total of two seconds after Santana shuts the front door behind them before Brittany has her pinned against it, and before Santana can register what's going on, Brittany's lips are crashing against her own.

She's slightly shocked by the sudden movement, but when Brittany's tongue slides along her bottom lip her brain and libido kick in and she starts kissing back. She reaches up and tugs Brittany's hat off, throwing it further into the apartment and tangling her fingers through the soft blonde hair, scratching gently at Brittany's scalp and shivering when the blonde moans into her mouth, her entire body pressing forward to push her harder against the door.

"Mmf, what about the pizza?" Santana manages to get out, not really caring about food when Brittany's hands are on her body, but she figures she should ask.

"Fuck the pizza, it can be reheated," Brittany says back, her voice low and rough and it the combination of the curse word and the tone of her voice causes arousal to pulse double time between Santana's /

She's vaguely aware of Brittany removing both their coats, and she has the presence of mind to kick her shoes off, but when Brittany's hands slip under the hem of her top to scratch down her abs, her brain stops working and all thoughts immediately vacate her head.

They stay pressed against the door exchanging increasingly heated kisses for the next few minutes, Brittany's arms sliding tightly around Santana's waist, while Santana loops her own around the blonde's neck. Brittany sucks on her tongue and she moans into the kiss, still incredibly thankful that they have the apartment to themselves.

Brittany's hands drop to Santana's ass, pausing to squeeze enough to make her whimper and rock her hips forward, before her hands slide further down to the back of her upper thighs, urging Santana to wrap first one, then both legs around her waist.

The blonde spins them round and walks them further into the apartment, and Santana tugs on Brittany's hair, pulling her head back to reveal her throat, and she drops her head to start sucking on her pulse point, licking and biting and generally just distracting Brittany as she slowly stumbles towards her bedroom. Her back collides with something hard and solid, and she lets out a quiet _oof _and detaches from Brittany's throat.

Brittany presses her harder against the wall, grinding her hips forward and lowering her head to press kisses along the top of Santana's chest. Santana's head falls back against the wall, moaning loudly when Brittany's squeezes at her ass and pushes her hips harder, the arousal shooting through her body.

"Britt, bed, now," Santana gasps, her nails digging into Brittany's shoulders when the blonde bites at her throat before sucking gently.

"You don't have anywhere to be anytime soon, do you?" The question is breathed into Santana's ear prior to her earlobe being nibbled, so it's a bit difficult for Santana to focus properly on what Brittany's asking her.

"What? No I don't, why?"

Brittany pulls back abruptly, eyes focusing on the mark Santana is sure is already blooming on her neck before smirking, her dark eyes lifting back up to gaze into Santana's.

"Cause I plan on fucking my girlfriend until she can't feel her legs," she whispers, attacking Santana's lips with her own and swallowing the loud moan Santana lets out at her filthy words.

Brittany hoists her higher on her waist, kissing her harder and squeezing her ass harder, and Santana can only moan helplessly as she's carried inside the bedroom.

/

Two hours later, Santana stumbles out of the bedroom on very unsteady legs.

Brittany had stayed true to her word, throwing Santana onto the bed and burying her head between her legs, licking and sucking enthusiastically until Santana could barely remember her own name. Santana had then of course returned the favor, the teeth marks in her shoulder and the scratches up and down her back proof of that.

After Brittany had collapsed back against the mattress for the third time, Santana had taken her time slowly kissing her way back up the blonde's body, and by the time she had reached Brittany's face she was met with the sight of barely open blue eyes and a sleepy smile tugging at kiss-swollen pink lips.

Brittany had muttered _I need another nap_ before closing her eyes completely, so Santana had taken the opportunity to heave herself off the bed to go get a glass of water.

She's leaning against the counter, chugging an entire glass of water because Jesus Christ marathon sex with Brittany is exhausting, and then refilling the glass when she remembers exactly why they were having celebratory marathon sex.

She has a girlfriend.

She has a girlfriend and the world hasn't ended.

Brittany's her girlfriend.

She has a beautiful, sweet, perfect girlfriend, and it's not nearly as terrifying a notion as she thought it would be.

She still can't quite believe it.

She has a fucking _girlfriend_, and she's never been so happy in her entire life.

/

Later on, after they've both sufficiently gorged themselves on reheated pizza, they're cuddling on the couch watching a movie – Santana's pick of something in Brittany's movie collection she'd never heard of but didn't look like it'd be full of blood and guts and axe murderers this time – when her phone lights up where it's been sitting on the coffee table for the entire day and starts playing The Bitch Is Back.

Santana grunts, heaves herself up until she's sprawled half across Brittany, nearly faceplanting right in her boobs – not that that'd be a bad thing at all – and reaches across to grab her phone.

"Sup Fabgay,"

"Hey, are you okay? You haven't answered any of my calls or texts today, where have you been?"

Santana glances down at Brittany, smiling like a fool when she realises Brittany's blinking sleepily, looking like she's just woken up – explains why she'd been so quiet, clearly not enough murder in this movie for her to stay awake – and chews her bottom lip thoughtfully, debating what to tell Quinn.

"Santana? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, uh, I'm out with Brittany." Santana makes a snap decision; she can't keep lying to Quinn forever.

She can almost hear Quinn raising her eyebrows in surprise, before she squinting in that way she does whenever she's suspicious of something. Usually Santana.

"Brittany as in Brittany Pierce?"

"No, Britney Spears," Santana says sarcastically. "How many other Brittanys do we know?"

"What are you doing with her?" Quinn asks, and Santana rolls her eyes, knowing she'll get the Fabray Inquisition when she eventually gets back home.

"I was out shopping earlier and I ran into her and now we are at Starbucks," Santana lies easily, since as great as Quinn thinking her and Brittany are just friends is, it might be a bit much to say _we're having a movie night_.

"Okay," Quinn replies slowly, still sounding suspicious. "Are you going to be home for dinner?"

Santana feels a bit ill at the thought of more food. "No, probably not. I'll be home later tonight though."

"Okay, well can you let Brittany know that our meeting with Cassie July has been pushed to 10am, and I'll just meet her there instead of at the studio first?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks. Okay, well I'll see you later. Have fun, tell Brittany I said hello."

"Will do. Bye Quinn."

She hangs up and drops her phone onto the floor, bringing her palms up to press against Brittany's chest, and she rests her chin on them.

"Quinn says hi, and that your meeting with Cassie July is now at 10am, and to just meet her there instead of at the studio."

"Cool," Brittany yawns, but she at least looks slightly more awake than the beginning of the phone call.

"Sorry, my movie choice not gory enough for you?" Santana jokes, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to Brittany's throat.

"It was my sister's favourite movie when she was ten, I've seen it like a million times already," Brittany confesses with a smile, before glancing down to where Santana threw her phone. "Is your ringtone for Quinn really The Bitch Is Back?"

"Yes it is," Santana laughs. "She keeps trying to change it, hence the reason I put a lock on my phone."

"Do I have a special ringtone? I mean I think as your girlfriend it's only fair I do."

"Uh, no you don't," Santana leans down and kisses Brittany's pout away. "Not yet at least."

"I think you should make that Paperweight song my ringtone," Brittany suggests, leaning up to return a few kisses to Santana's cheeks and lips. "It can be our song," she mumbles into Santana's mouth, trying to kiss her harder, but Santana pulls away.

"Our song? How very Taylor Swift of you," she teases, fully intending to look up the song when gets home and make it her ringtone for Brittany.

"Do you have a ringtone for me?" Santana asks, smiling widely when Brittany blushes ten shades of red and averts her eyes, suddenly finding the back of the sofa extremely interesting.

"Oh, you do?" Santana continues. "What is it?"

Brittany covers her face with one of her arms, groaning and making a huffing noise. "Have you heard of the band Defeater?"

"Nope," Santana replies, picking her phone back up and scrolling through the contacts until she gets to Brittany's name.

"Um, well it's a song by them called I Don't Mind," Brittany mumbles, as Santana presses call and waits for Brittany's phone to go off.

It takes a few seconds before Brittany's phone lights up, and Santana nearly melts when she hears and registers what the guy is singing.

_Cause there ain't nothing like your smile, your legs and those eyes. I will beg and steal and borrow, to keep you safe your whole life. And I don't mind, if we take our time, cause I'm all yours, if you're all mine._

Santana presses end call and dumps her phone back on the floor, looking down at Brittany with a massive grin on her face. Brittany eventually moves her arm off her face, peeking over it. Santana grabs her wrist and moves her arm out the way, her smile growing at the pink tinge remaining on Brittany's cheeks.

"Aww," Santana coos, kissing the tip of Brittany's nose. "Who knew you were such a sentimental, romantic sweetheart?"

"Be quiet," Brittany grumbles.

"You don't have to be embarrassed babe, it's cute."

Brittany looks thoughtful for a second, as if pondering what Santana's just said, before she shrugs her shoulders and nods to herself. "Yeah, I am pretty cute." Santana agrees wholeheartedly. "Now, cuddle time."

Brittany moves her arms to wrap around Santana's waist, hugging them closer together. Her hands slip under the top Santana's wearing and warm palms press against the small of her back, just above the hem of the sweatpants. Santana rests her cheek on Brittany's chest, and cuddles further into her girlfriend, the oversized gray sweater Brittany had put on earlier making for a great pillow.

Santana was never much of a cuddler, the intimacy it comes hand-in-hand with usually freaking her out too much, but Brittany's just so good at it. She's warm, and soft, and she smells good, and Santana's definitely a fan of the way Brittany's arms wrap around her to hold her close.

She's nearly asleep when Brittany jolts underneath her, shoving her to the side and leaping off the couch with a gleeful laugh.

Santana blinks dazedly up at the blonde, waiting until she spins round from the gigantic bookcase next to the television that houses a load of recipe books, an embarrassing amount of comic books, two shelves of DVDs, and a ceramic duck ornament with an entire shelf to itself.

Still half-asleep, Santana focuses on the case Brittany's holding up, only catching the words _Texas_ and _massacre_ before Brittany's bouncing towards the television, changing DVDs and standing up with a smirk.

"Your movie ended, now it's my pick," she says with a smile.

"I thought being my girlfriend meant you were supposed to be nice to me," Santana deadpans, raising her eyebrows at the case of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre when it gets dumped onto the coffee table.

"I am nice to you, that's why I'm going to go out while it's raining and get popcorn, and you can stay here in my nice warm apartment," Brittany goes skipping into her bedroom, coming back out once she's changed her sweatpants for jeans and carrying a pair of boots in her hand.

"Popcorn?" Santana says dumbly, nervously glancing at the screen when the menu pops up.

"Can't have a movie night without popcorn!" Brittany announces cheerfully. She grabs her coat and walks over to the sofa, sitting down next to Santana and putting her boots on.

"Do you like salted or sweet?" Brittany asks, standing back up and tugging her coat on, before leaning down for a kiss.

"Salted," Santana replies once the kiss breaks, and Brittany looks mildly horrified.

"Salted? What's wrong with you?"

"You like sweet popcorn? What's wrong with you?" Santana shoots back.

Brittany ignores her, just kissing her forehead before sweeping out the front door, tossing a _back in ten _over her shoulder.

/

Santana hears the front door opening and closing when she's in the bathroom, and rolls her eyes at herself for the butterflies that explode in her stomach, since apparently being away from Brittany for more than ten minutes now means she gets separation anxiety on a stalker level.

No way in hell is she going to be one of those girlfriends.

But she does try and pee a little quicker.

After flushing the toilet and washing her hands, Santana opens the door and walks out into the living room, before she stops dead and her blood runs cold as she registers that the blonde standing in the kitchen is _not_ Brittany.

"Santana?"

"Sam?"

Shit.

Oh shit.

Fucking shitting Jesus fucking Christ.

Shit.

"What are you doing here?" Sam squints at her, his gaze growing even more confused when his eyes drop and he takes in her outfit of underwear and one of Brittany's tshirts. "And why aren't you wearing any pants?"

Santana opens her mouth to attempt to bullshit her way through a lame excuse, but before she can say anything the front door opens, and Brittany comes waltzing in.

"Hey sweetheart, they didn't have any chocolate popcorn, so I just got plain and- Sam?" Brittany pauses, catching sight of him and freezing when she turns around to hang her coat up. Her eyes go wide, and she gulps audibly, her gaze flickering over to Santana.

"Uh, you're home early," she squeaks nervously.

There's a moment of dead silence where nobody says anything, and Santana watches as Sam just looks between the two of them, dread flooding through her body when realization washes over his face.

"Britt," he starts, running a hand through his hair. "Please tell me I'm just being stupid, and this isn't what I think it is."

"Sam, I can explain-"

"Oh my God Brittany," Sam interrupts in disbelief at Brittany basically confirming what he's obviously thinking. "What- You-" He splutters. "How long as this been going on?"

"A few months," Brittany mutters quietly, staring down at her feet.

"Jesus Britt, what the hell were you thinking? What on Earth possessed you to sleep with your boss?"

Santana just stays quiet, frozen where she's standing in the middle of the apartment while Sam and Brittany shout at each other in front of her.

Everything's happening too fast.

She doesn't know what to do.

This was never supposed to happen.

Kurt had been okay with it and Puck had been okay with it, and Santana just hadn't given any thought as to what to do if someone were to not be okay with it.

She's such an idiot. Of course not everyone was going to be okay with the fact that Santana is sleeping with her employee. Kurt and Puck are two of her closest friends, it's like, law for them to be on her side.

She doesn't know what to do. She feels sick.

Brittany's voice breaking slightly catches her attention, and she tunes back into what's happening right in front of her, and notices Brittany getting increasingly upset.

Oh hell no is anyone making her girlfriend cry.

"Sam, just calm down-" She starts weakly, the dread and nausea swirling around in her stomach making her voice waver. She takes a step forward then immediately retreats when Sam whirls round to glare at her.

"No, don't you dare tell me to calm down. What the hell were you thinking, Santana? You're supposed to be our boss, you're supposed to set an example for all of us, and instead you, what? Manipulate your employee into having sex with you?"

"Hey!" Brittany shouts, immediately shutting Sam up and the retort dies in Santana's throat as they both turn to look at the blonde. "She did not manipulate me Sam, she didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to. You can yell at me all you want but don't you dare accuse her of that."

It's completely inappropriate, but Santana can't help but notice how hot angry Brittany is.

"So what, it was you that started it Brittany? What, are you just sleeping with her to try and get ahead of the rest of us, is that it?"

Well that little accusation certainly makes Santana see red.

"Sam!" Santana grinds out through clenched teeth, trying to tame the urge to lunge at him and go all Lima Heights. "If you want to keep all your limbs, I highly suggest you don't speak to my girlfriend like that."

"Wait what? Girlfriend?!" He asks in bewilderment, looking over at Brittany for confirmation.

He looks even more confused when Brittany doesn't deny it, she just shrugs, folding her arms across her chest, and speaks, sounding defeated. "Yeah, girlfriend, Sam. Neither of us expected this to happen, but it did, okay? It's not just sex, Santana and I are together."

Sam pauses, and takes a few deep breaths. "Okay. Just wow, okay. You both have a lot of explaining to do."

"Sam-"

"Britt I came home early cause the last guest speaker cancelled and I figured if I got an earlier train back we could still make our Sunday Superhero Movie Night," Santana tries to hide a smile, because _so_ not the time, sucking in her lips and stifling a giggle at the blush that immediately appears on Brittany's face.

Sunday Superhero Movie Night. It's so dorky, and so cute, and so Brittany.

"Instead, I get home to find our boss, half naked except for some of your clothes. I think I deserve an explanation don't you?"

It's Santana's turn to blush furiously, thanking her complexion that it won't be very visible, and mumbles a hurried excuse about getting changed, whirling round and darting into Brittany's room in search of some clothes.

/

"I'm sorry," Sam says, later on when him and, fully clothed in Brittany's sweatpants and a hoodie, Santana are sitting awkwardly on the sofa together, while Brittany roots around in the refrigerator for some beer. "For shouting at both of you earlier. It just, you know, took me by surprise a bit."

Santana nods in agreement, still too shocked by how quickly everything unfolded to really speak properly.

"I didn't mean to be a dick," he continues, turning slightly until he's facing Santana more. "It's just, you just hear all these stories of bosses manipulating their employees to sleep with them, promising them raises and stuff, or about people sleeping with their bosses to try and climb ladders, I just assumed that's what was going on, and I kinda freaked out."

"Britt's one of my best friends, like usually people think I'm dumb, or an idiot, or a nerd or some combination of the three, but Brittany's one of the only people who's never treated me like that. I know she sees me as a big brother, and I'm just looking out for her."

"I don't think you're an idiot," Santana replies, forcing a smile. "A nerd, yes, but not stupid."

"Thanks," Sam laughs, and thankfully some of the awkward silence dissipates. "Again, I'm sorry for being such a douche and accusing you of all those things."

"Sam I really don't think you're the one that should be apologizing right now," Santana says weakly.

"Yeah you're right," he replies. "Although really, neither should you, I mean you can't help who you fall in love with."

Santana nearly falls off the sofa in shock when she absorbs what Sam's saying. Fuck, is it that obvious?

She nearly falls off the sofa a second time when she realizes that Sam probably isn't talking about her so much as he's talking about Brittany.

This is too much for one day. She's fucking glad Brittany suggested alcohol for this little discussion.

Sam glances behind them to where Brittany's uncapping three bottles of beer, then looks at Santana again.

"Friend to friend here? You guys being together is totally cool with me, I promise. Again, I'm sorry I was such a douche earlier, just gimme a bit of time to, you know, let this sink in. You kinda caught me by surprise."

"Yeah, I can imagine."

"Don't hurt her," Sam says abruptly, looking deadly serious. "I'm not gonna threaten to beat you up or something, hitting chicks isn't cool. But if you do anything to hurt her…" He trails off and raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

"I don't plan on it," Santana answers. Brittany's still struggling with uncapping the last bottle, so she swallows and faces Sam again. "I- There aren't enough words to explain how much she means to me Sam. I would never hurt her, I promise."

Sam studies her for a few more seconds, before holding out his fist.

"Are you serious?" Santana deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

"Dude."

Begrudgingly, Santana lifts her own hand and bumps her fist against his. "I'm still your boss you know. I'm Santana to you, not dude."

"Yeah, cause you've be so professional haven't you?" Sam chuckles, immediately stopping when Santana fixes him with a murderous glare.

"I'm kidding," he squeaks, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Santana." He adds on with an idiotic smile.

Brittany appears in front of them, handing them both a bottle, and looks between them suspiciously. "You haven't killed each other."

"Nah, we're good now. Sorry I was a dick earlier, Britt, just caught me by surprise is all."

Brittany nods slowly, looking slightly confused that there isn't more yelling and finger pointing, but sits down on the opposite side of Santana and takes a sip of her drink.

"So," Sam says with a grin, taking a gulp of his beer. "Start from the beginning."

/

It's not nearly as awkward as Santana thought it would be, spending the next tow hours with Sam and Brittany.

They tell their story together, Santana glaring when Sam makes the occasional pervy comment – "_I thought you two looked pretty close when you were dancing at the Halloween party!"_ – and Brittany reaching across to smack him on the arm when he starts making fun of her – "See, I was totally right about you liking someone!" Brittany groans in embarrassment, and he loudly whispers to Santana, "She spent like an entire week last month playing Taylor Swift songs on repeat. She's got it bad for you, dude."

It also turns out Sam's as big a fan of horror movies as she is, so when Brittany demands they watch the Texas Chainsaw Massacre since it's all ready to play on the TV, they spend most of the time ganging up on Brittany and berating her for her terrible taste in movies, while she just eats all the popcorn and says they don't appreciate true horror.

By the time 10pm rolls around, Santana figures she should probably go home before Quinn sends out a search party for her. She says as much when the movie finally ends, walking into Brittany's bedroom and collecting her bag and her clothes from the previous night.

Brittany walks Santana to the door, and she flounders slightly, wondering whether it would be okay or not to kiss Brittany goodbye with Sam still sitting on the sofa – he's not looking at them, but still – when Brittany decides for her, cupping her face with her hands and pulling her forward into a kiss.

"I know it didn't quite end how we wanted it," Brittany says when she breaks the kiss, keeping her voice low so Sam can't hear them. "But this has been one of the best weekends of my life."

"Yeah, me too," Santana says, opening the door and dragging Brittany out into the hallway for a bit more privacy. "Hey, it wasn't all bad. Sam's pretty great. I mean, he clearly has superior taste in movies to you."

"First of all, I am going to convert you into a horror movie fan, just you wait. Second, yeah he's a great guy. I'll make sure he doesn't tell anyone," Brittany says, and Santana's heart sinks, because that sure as hell was not in the forefront of her mind, and she gets a bit angry at herself that that's the first thing Brittany would think of.

God Santana hates the dejected look Brittany gets in her eyes when either of them references them still being a secret.

She wants nothing more than for them to be completely open about their relationship, for her to be able to tell Quinn, her Mom, namedrop Brittany as her girlfriend in any interview she does.

And it absolutely sucks that she can't, because she's falling so hard and so fast for the blonde wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a slow, sweet kiss. Or maybe she already has fallen. Hell, maybe she'll never _stop_ falling.

"Thank you," Santana says, leaning up to peck Brittany a final time. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow," Brittany parrots, reluctantly letting Santana go and watching as she walks backwards down the hallway just so she can stare at Brittany a bit longer.

Santana only turns around when she's right at the end, pressing the button for the elevator and looking like a lovestruck dumbass when Brittany calls one last word down the hall after her.

"Girlfriend."

* * *

Songs used are Paperweight by Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk, and Brittany's ringtone is I Don't Mind by Defeater, which is like the cutest song ever and you should totally all go listen to it right now.

Also please don't leave Sam hate in your reviews, I know S4 turned him into an absolute douchebag, but S2/3 Sam was one of my favourites, and that's what this Sam is based on.

Also, now it's confirmed Seasons of Love is going to be in Cory tribute episode, it's also confirmed I'm going to be sobbing like a baby. RIP Cory.


End file.
